UC-NRLF 


B    M    1DM    SbS 


-T-£ 


FRANK 


GRAHAM  (from  an  old  daguerreotype). 


THE  LAND  OF  GOLD. 

A  TALE  OF  '49- 


ILLUSTRATIVE  OF  EARLY  PIONEER  LIFE  IN 

CALIFORNIA,  AND   FOUNDED 

UPON  FACT. 


DEDICATED  TO  CALIFORNIA  PIONEERS. 

BY 
GEORGE   G.  SPURR. 

WITH  SEVEN  ILLUSTRATIONS. 


BOSTON: 

A.  WILLIAMS   &  COMPANY, 

OLD  CORNER  BOOKSTORE, 
1881. 


Copyright,  1881, 
BY  GEORGE  G.  SPURR. 


The  Riverside  Press,  Cambridge : 
Stereotyped  and  Printed  by  H.  O.  Houghton  &  Co. 


To 
THE   CALIFORNIA   PIONEERS, 

WHO  SUFFERED  WITH  MANLY  ENDURANCE 
HARDSHIPS    RARELY    KNOWN    TO    THE    PRESENT    CENTURY, 

AND  BRAVELY   LEU  THE  VAN  OF  CIVILIZATION 

OVER  OBSTACLES  WHICH  MADE  THEIR  DEEDS  IMPERISHABLE  ON  THE  SCROLL  OF  FAME  \ 
AND  WHO  IN  OPENING  THIS  WILD  AND  MAGNIFICENT  COUNTRY 

TO  ITS  PRESENT  GRAND    POSSIBILITIES 

HAVE   CARVED    UPON   THE   ANNALS   OF   POETIC    FANCY 
AN  INDIVIDUALITY  AS  MARKED  AS  IT  IS  CHARACTERISTIC  AND  DRAMATIC,  . 

STfjese  fEcmofrs 

ARE  SINCERELY  AND  AFFECTIONATELY  DEDICATED 
BY 

.THE  AUTHOR. 


M138257 


PREFACE. 


THIS  narrative,  presented  with  many  misgivings 
as  to  its  acceptance  by  the  general  reader,  and  writ 
ten  during  an  illness  of  some  months'  duration,  is 
contributed  to  the  file  of  literature  for  the  purpose 
of  keeping  green  the  memory  of  the  achievements 
of  the  early  pioneers  in  California,  and  to  show 
future  generations  what  it  cost  to  add  what  was 
once  a  wild  and  unbroken  solitude  to  civilization 
and  fame. 

In  reviving  scenes  long  since  forgotten  and  re 
producing  characters  buried  in  eternal  sleep,  I  am 
actuated  by  a  desire  to  commemorate  their  deeds 
and  to  leave  to  their  posterity  a  memorial,  humble 
as  it  is,  in  respectful  remembrance,  to  the  bravery 
and  persistent  endurance  which  marked  their  tracks 
through  the  wildest  regions  of  the  Sierra  Nevadas. 

Possibly  some  errors  have  crept  in,  and  no  doubt 
many  imperfections  may  be  found ;  these  must  nec 
essarily  follow  a  memory  unaided  by  notes,  maps,  or 


vi  PREFACE. 

references,  in  its  efforts  to  recall  events  which  tran 
spired  full  thirty  years  ago. 

These  blemishes  are  the  natural  outgrowth  of  an 
imperfect  knowledge  of  that  vast  country  to  which 
I  have  been  a  stranger  during  the  intervening  years, 
and  the  critic  is  asked  to  be  charitable  and  accept 
these  defects  as  the  condition  accompanying  the 
legacy  bequeathed  to  him  by  the  author. 

G.   G.   S. 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  I. 

FAGS 

THE  LOVE  OF  MONEY  I 


CHAPTER  II. 
THE  COTTAGE  HOME  IN  THE  MOHAWK  VALLEY  ...       7 

CHAPTER  III. 
THE  RUGBYS  OF  RUGBY  FARM n 

CHAPTER  IV. 
THE  ARBOR,  THE  GEM  OF  THE  BOWERY       ....     30 

CHAPTER  V. 
ROUNDING  CAPE  HORN    ...  ....     48 

CHAPTER  VI. 
THE  START  FROM  SUTTER'S  FORT 62 

CHAPTER  VII. 
THE  INDIAN  RAID  AT  THE  CORRAL  .       «       .       .     76 


Vlll  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER  VIII. 

PAGE 

SEEKING  WEALTH  UNDER  DIFFICULTIES        ....      92 

CHAPTER  IX. 
THE  RIPPLE  SPRING  HOUSE 109 

CHAPTER  X. 
THE  DOWNIE  HOUSE,  ROUGH  AND  READY        ...        137 

CHAPTER  XL 
THE  STATE  HOSPITAL 159 

CHAPTER  XII. 
THE  STORM  AT  HARTWELL'S  CROSSING        ....      173 

CHAPTER  XIII. 
MAMMON,  GOD  OF  MONEY 186 

CHAPTER  XIV. 
DEADMAN'S  BAR 204 

CHAPTER  XV. 

THE  DESTRUCTION  OF  SACRAMENTO  CITY    .       .       .       .214 

CHAPTER  XVI. 
POOR  MAN'S  CREEK 220 


CONTENTS.  X 

CHAPTER  XVII. 

FAGS 

HOME  AGAIN 235 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 
THANKSGIVING  WEEK 244 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

THANKSGIVING  DINNER  IN  THE  CITY  OF  WITCHES     .       .      258 


ILLUSTRATIONS. 

PACK 

FRANK  GRAHAM  (from  an  old  daguerreotype)    .    .    .    Frontispiece 
GRAHAM  AND  ANTOINE  CROSSING  THE  SACRAMENTO  VALLEY  .    72 

THE  MIDNIGHT  ATTACK  IN  THE  CORRAL •.    .    84 

LEFT  TO  HIS  FATE.  —  "GOOD-BYE,  DAVE" 102 

CAPTURING  THE  GRIZZLY  BEAR 148 

THE  TRIAL  OF  ANDY  MCQUAID 208 

GRAHAM  AND  THE  OLD  MILLER 238 


A  WINTER    EVENING'S    TALE. 


CHAPTER  I. 

THE    LOVE    OF    MONEY. 

AWAKE,  my  lyre;  awake  once  more; 
Transport  me  back  to  days  of  yore  ; 
Beguile  the  heart,  enchant  the  mind, 
And  sing,  ah  sing,  of  auld  lang  syne. 
Conceal  these  locks  as  white  as  snow, 
My  failing  sight  and  wrinkled  brow 
Let  me  forget ;   the  hand  of  time 
Has  long  since  bent  this  form  of  mine. 
Benumb  these  pains,  exhaust  these  tears, 
And  dim  the  list  of  ripened  years  : 
Arouse  companions,  long  since  dead, 
In  valley  deep  and  river  bed, 
On  dreary  waste,  upon  the  plain 
Where  vultures  gorged  the  mangled  slain ; 
Restore  the  camp  with  tale  and  song, 
The  wolf  that  howled  the  whole  night  long, 
The  pack  mule  and  the  winding  trails 
Up  mountain  steeps,  through  grassy  vales ; 
Revive  these  scenes,  for  I  would  fain 
Live  o'er  these  blessed  scenes  again,  — 
Give,  oh  give  me  one  chance  more 
To  live  and  love  in  days  of  yore. 

THE  AUTHOR. 

OF  all  the  passions  to  which  man  is  heir,  there 
is  none,  perhaps,  more  seductive  than  the  love  of 
wealth.  The  desire  to  become  rich  is  a  moral  weak 
ness,  which  did  not  originate  in  our  day,  nor  can  we 


2  A    Wl'tfTERS EVENING 'S   TALE. 

'be'  held'  respdtijihfeiGT.  t,feis  irresistible  feeling.  To 
desire  money,  or  to  accumulate  it  by  the  use  of 
proper  means,  is  not  wrong.  It  is  only  when  we 
allow  our  baser  appetites  to  become  the  supreme 
dictator  over  the  better  instincts  of  our  nature,  and 
grant  our  avaricious  cravings  unrestrained  liberty, 
that  it  becomes  a  sin.  The  history  of  human  greed 
presents  to  us  but  few  marked  examples  of  self- 
denial.  It  seems  as  though  this  inherent  weakness 
has  become  so  embedded  in  the  character  of  man, 
that  it  will  always  exist,  in  some  degree,  to  aid  a 
miserly  heart  in  oppressing  the  needy  and  crushing 
the  honest  poor. 

To  obtain  money,  and  thereby  position  and  influ 
ence,  is  one  of  the  strongest  incentives  of  our  moral 
being.  I  not  only  sustain  but  applaud  the  man 
who  is  honestly  struggling  against  an  adverse  wind 
and  tide  to  gain  an  honorable  landing  from  the  surg 
ing  of  a  wild  and  tempestuous  sea.  Who  does  not 
love  the  man  of  energy  and  boldness,  whether  he 
be  found  in  our  legislative  halls,  or  wielding  the 
mighty  pen  in  the  silent  gloom  of  his  obscure  sanc 
tum.  What  reader,  following  the  Arctic  wanderers 
through  fearful  scenes,  has  not  felt  his  heart  beat 
with  emotion  while  reading  of  the  fate  of  their  little 
bark  as  it  weathered  the  frozen  blasts  that  hurled  it 
through  the  regions  of  eternal  snow.  Where  is  the 
patriot  who  loves  not  Italy's  greatest  hero,  who  from 


THE  LOVE   OF  MONEY.  3 

his  Alpine  home  sounded  his  bugle  horn,  and  swing 
ing  his  battle-axe  over  the  dynasty  of  a  tyrant  king, 
raised  his  struggling  country  to  a  position  among 
the  nations  of  the  earth.  Is  there  an  American 
citizen  who  loves  not  the  Father  of  his  Country, 
who,  crossing  the  Delaware,  amid  the  howling  blasts 
of  winter's  midnight  gloom,  struck  a  blow  that  felled 
to  earth  the  banner  which  mocked  the  prayers  of  a 
pure  and  injured  people.  What  freeman  does  not 
regard  with  affection  the  Liberator  of  his  country, 
who  amid  the  chaos  of  public  opinion,  surrounded 
by  the  darkest  clouds  of  military  disaster,  hurled  in 
the  teeth  of  his  country's  foes  his  Proclamation  of 
Emancipation,  and  raised  four  millions  of  slaves  to 
breathe  the  pure  air  of  republican  liberty. 

What  modern  pioneer  has  followed  the  intrepid 
Pathfinder  over  the  barren  plains  of  the  far  West 
and  read  of  his  perilous  journeys  over  the  lofty  sum 
mits  of  the  Sierra  Nevada,  and  through  the  silent 
gloom  of  the  Sacramento  Valley,  without  a  feeling 
of  awe  and  deep  admiration.  He  little  dreamed, 
while  wandering  over  that  vast  region  of  solemn 
grandeur,  that  in  a  few  years  the  woodman's  axe 
would  ring  amid  those  wild  and  solitary  hills.  He 
never  imagined  that  in  the  bosoms  of  those  gurgling 
brooks  and  mighty  rivers,  in  hill  and  dale  and  forest 
wild,  lay  hid  the  gathered  wealth  of  countless  years, 
or  that  cities  would  rise  where  all  was  gloom,  that 


4  A    WINTER  EVENING'S   TALE. 

steamboats  would  glide  and  the  iron  horse  rush 
through  those  silent  valleys. 

Not  only  this,  but  far  greater  results  have  been 
obtained.  Those  timbered  hills  and  luxuriant  val 
leys,  over  which  the  white  man's  foot  had  never  trod, 
while  the  deer,  the  antelope,  and  the  elk,  roamed 
about  in  their  native  majesty,  are  filled  with  people 
from  every  clime.  Those  vast  and  parch  ing  prairies, 
where  cattle  and  horses  roamed  countless  and  un 
claimed,  furnish  to-day  fruits,  grain,  and  vegetables 
for  exportation.  On  those  mighty  rivers  whose 
banks  are  covered  with  bright  homes  and  richly 
cultivated  fields,  vessels  of  every  nation  spread  their 
canvas  to  the  breeze.  Along  the  beautiful  and  fer 
tile  valley  of  the  Sacramento,  three  hundred  miles 
long  and  eighty  miles  wide,  where  wild  flowers  blos 
somed,  and  luxurious  clover  and  golden  grain  with 
ered  and  died,  can  be  seen  to-day  the  thrifty  farm, 
the  home  of  plenty,  and  the  hearty  welcome  in  the 
tawny  faces  of  those  hardy  sons  of  New  England. 
The  petty  settlements  of  canvas  huts  and  willow 
cabins  have  given  way  to  mighty  cities  ;  the  iron 
horse  shrieks  through  her  valleys  ;  the  lightning 
whispers  from  city  to  city  ;  her  young  heart  beats 
in  unison  w,ith  ours,  and  California  stands  to-day  the 
queen  of  the  Pacific,  the  paradise  of  America,  and 
the  wonder  of  the  world. 

As  one  of  the  earliest  of  her  adopted  children,  I 


THE  LOVE    OF  MONEY.  5 

bless  her  to-day  for  the  stand  she  took  in  the  dark 
est  hour  of  our  country's  history.  Though  her 
faults  are  many,  and  her  crimes  great,  she  has  fully 
redeemed  herself ;  for  when  her  country's  emblem 
—  that  proud  bird  of  America  —  pierced  by  arrows 
of  usurpers,  frightened  from  its  stately  eyrie,  screech 
ing  and  fluttering  above  the  tottering  capitol,  de 
scended  amid  the  awful  gloom  and  took  refuge  in 
the  hearts  of  her  people,  the  voice  of  the  old  pio 
neers  rose  above  the  lofty  summits  of  her  snow-clad 
mountains,  and  rang  forth  throughout  the  land  — 
Union  now  —  Union  forever  and  forever  ! 

California's  greatness  and  those  bright  and  happy 
results  were  not  accomplished  without  great  sacri 
fices  and  personal  dangers.  Many  a  poor  emigrant 
lost  his  life  en  route  to  this  land  of  promise,  many 
sweet  homes  were  made  desolate,  and  hundreds  of 
stout  hearts  sank  under  the  weight  of  grief  and  dis 
appointment.  Collect  the  dust  of  those  who  per 
ished  from  hunger  and  thirst  on  the  blighted  prai 
ries  of  the  far  West ;  gather  those  mangled  forms 
that  breathed  their  last  under  the  vengeance  of  the 
Indian's  tomahawk  ;  pick  up  those  frightful  corpses, 
which  glistened  in  the  moon-beams  on  the  snow-clad 
summits  of  the  Sierra  Nevada ;  glean  the  remnants 
that  lay  bleaching  in  the  noonday  sun, — gather 
them  together  —  lay  them  gently  along  from  the 
banks  of  the  turbid  Missouri  to  the  drowsy  Sacra- 


6  A    WINTER  EVENING'S    TALE. 

mento,  and  the  emigrant  of  to-day  can  pass  over  an 
endless  grave  for  twenty-two  hundred  miles,  —  a 
tomb  to  which  no  State  in  the  Union  but  has  con 
tributed  some  loving  heart  of  blessed  memory,  — 
a  burial  ground  over  which  the  tears  of  the  widow 
and  fatherless  mingle  with  the  requiem  of  the  sum 
mer  winds  and  the  churly  blasts  of  December's 
gale. 

It  will  be  my  humble  endeavor  to  narrate  to  you, 
reader,  a  few  of  the  leading  incidents  in  the  ex 
perience  of  one  of  the  early  pioneers  in  the  land 
of  sunshine  and  flowers.  I  shall  try  to  picture  a 
once  happy  home,  and  to  contrast  with  it  one  now 
desolate  and  unknown.  I  hope  to  impress  upon  you 
that  a  home,  however  humble,  is  the  dearest  spot  on 
earth  ;  and  to  persuade  you  that  a  rolling  stone 
gathers  no  moss,  and  that  a  contented  mind  is  a 
continual  feast. 


CHAPTER  II. 

THE  COTTAGE  HOME  IN  THE  MOHAWK  VALLEY. 

"  I  remember,  I  remember 

The  house  where  I  was  born, 
The  little  window  where  the  sun 

Came  peeping  in  at  morn : 
He  never  came  a  wink  too  soon, 

Nor  made  too  long  a  day ; 
But  now,  I  often  wish  the  night 
Had  borne  my  breath  away." 

HOOD. 

ON  the  bank  of  the  Mohawk,  whose  turbid  waters 
sweep  slowly  and  silently  through  the  county  of 
Oneida,  once  stood  a  neat  little  cottage  of  a  roman 
tic  appearance.  The  trellised  portico  and  latticed 
windows  were  draped  with  ivy  and  jasmine  in  such 
a  manner  as  to  puzzle  the  observer  and  excite  his 
curiosity.  He  would  look,  smile,  and  with  uncon 
scious  sincerity  seldom  retire  till  he  had  made  a 
thorough  inspection  of  its  unique  and  singular  odd 
ity.  Adjoining  this  cottage  was  a  highly  cultivated 
garden,  laid  out  with  graveled  walks  and  woodbine 
bowers.  A  sprightly  brook  which  ran  down  the  side 
of  a  steep  and  rocky  hill  forming  the  background  of 
our  picture,  wound  through  the  centre  of  the  garden, 
and  its  playful  tune  could  be  heard  as  it  rippled 
over  its  pebbly  bed.  The  green  hills,  the  tangled 


8  A    WINTER  EVENING'S   TA7E. 

wildwood,  the  village  and  the  village  church,  the 
silent  Mohawk,  and  the  surrounding  scenery,  pre 
sented  to  the  visitor  a  most  charming  sight,  and 
left  upon  his  mind  an  impression  never  to  be  for 
gotten. 

The  external  appearance  so  prepossessing  and 
cozy,  persuaded  the  beholder  that  similar  beauties 
and  corresponding  attractions  were  to  be  enjoyed 
within  the  cottage  home.  Enter  with  me  through 
the  eastern  door  and  you  encounter  Major,  the  faith 
ful  dog,  who  politely  demands  your  business.  As 
your  pass  is  genuine  you  are  truly  welcome,  the  dog 
manifesting  his  gladness  in  various  ways  ;  but  woe 
unto  him  who  attempts  to  enter  unaided  and  alone. 
Pass  through  the  different  rooms  and  you  observe 
nothing  but  the  articles  usually  owned  by  persons  in 
moderate  circumstances,  unless  you  except  a  well 
filled  library  case  and  a  few  choice  paintings.  But 
that  which  is  the  most  noticeable  is  the  peculiar 
neatness  and  the  air  of  comfort  that  pervades  every 
department,  especially  the  kitchen,  which  evidently 
is  arranged  after  the  English  fashion,  for  here  is  the 
open  hearth  with  its  blazing  fire ;  the  polished  grate 
and  fender  with  poker  and  tongs  ;  the  old  arm-chair, 
where  pussy  so  often  sleeps  ;  the  richly  colored  rug 
on  which  the  black  dog  yawns  ;  "  the  white-washed 
walls,  the  neatly  sanded  floor,  and  the  oaken  clock 
which  ticked  behind  the  door." 


THE   COTTAGE  HOME.  g 

This  unique  little  home  with  its  pleasant  surround 
ings  was  owned  by  Mr.  James  Graham,  and  occupied 
by  himself,  his  wife,  and  five  children,  two  sons  and 
three  daughters.  Mr.  Graham  was  an  intelligent 
man  of  dignified  appearance,  proud  and  self-willed, 
and  extremely  sensitive.  He  had  built  this  home 
many  years  ago,  and  embellished  it  to  suit  his  tastes 
and  fancy.  He  had  christened  it  Fernwood  Cot 
tage.  Mrs.  Graham  was  a  pure  Christian  woman  of 
unassuming  manners,  a  firm  friend,  and  a  devoted 
mother.  She  was  deeply  attached  to  her  family 
and  her  beautiful  little  home  that  nestled  so  pret 
tily  in  the  deep  calmness  of  the  Mohawk  Valley. 

When  in  the  fall  of  1848  the  news  from  Califor 
nia  reached  us,  it  threw  the  whole  country  into  a 
state  of  wild  excitement.  Mr.  Graham  fell  an  easy 
prey  to  the  gold  fever,  became  a  firm  believer  in 
the  marvelous  discoveries  of  hidden  treasures,  and 
determined  to  take  an  early  start  for  the  new  Eldo 
rado.  His  home,  his  social  relations,  the  tears  of  his 
children,  the  pleadings  of  his  wife,  failed  to  shake 
his  purpose,  or  change  the  time  of  his  departure. 
That  little  home,  so  precious  to  every  member  of 
the  family,  was  easily  mortgaged.  The  necessary 
arrangements  were  soon  completed,  and  Mr.  Gra 
ham,  with  a  heart  buoyant  with  hope,  bade  farewell 
to  his  family,  and  quietly  left  the  village  for  New 
York. 


10  A    WINTER  EVENING'S   TALE. 

On  arriving  at  the  great  metropolis  he  found 
thousands  there  before  him  pressing  for  conveyance 
to  the  land  that  was  said  to  flow  with  milk  and 
honey.  The  hotels  were  filled,  the  streets  thronged, 
and  the  stores  crowded  with  these  adventurous  spir 
its  arranging  the  details  for  a  speedy  departure  for 
California.  The  doubts  which  Mr.  Graham  had  en 
tertained  with  reference  to  the  propriety  of  taking 
with  him  his  eldest  son,  Frank,  were  now  dispelled. 
Their  fortunes  were  inseparable  ;  their  houses  must 
rise  or  fall  together.  Sharing  each  other's  joys  or 
sorrows,  they  must  go  hand  in  hand,  and  survive  or 
perish  in  this  the  grandest  hazard  of  their  lives. 
Mr.  Graham  wrote  a  long  letter  to  his  family,  giving 
a  glowing  account  of  ships  sailing  daily,  loaded 
with  enthusiastic  passengers  for  the  gold  mines. 
He  urged  Frank  to  come  immediately,  and  with 
him  to  take  his  chances  by  embarking  on  the  next 
ship  that  sailed.  He  posted  this  letter  and  returned 
to  his  hotel  to  await  a  reply. 


CHAPTER  III. 

THE  RUGBYS  OF  RUGBY  FARM. 

"  New  hopes  may  bloom,  and  days  may  come 

Of  milder,  calmer  beam, 
But  there  's  nothing  half  so  sweet  in  life 
As  love's  young  dream." 

LEADING  from  the  hollow  in  which  Mr.  Graham's 
homestead  nestles  is  a  bridle  path,  which,  if  fol 
lowed,  brings  you  abruptly  into  a  broad  county  road 
stretching  back  among  the  farms  which  dot  the  val 
ley  on  either  side  of  the  river. 

The  scene  from  Rugby  Hill,  the  most  prominent 
of  the  long  range  that  lies  to  the  east  of  the  road,  is, 
indeed,  beautiful  and  picturesque.  Standing  upon 
the  "  tip "  on  a  clear  summer's  day,  far  off  to  the 
right  can  be  seen  the  outlines  of  that  busy  little 
municipality — the  city  of  Rome.  Reversing  your 
position,  your  eyes  rest  upon  and  penetrate  the 
thin  vapor  that  hangs  like  a  bridal  veil  over  the 
queen  city  of  the  Mohawk  Valley  —  the  city  of 
Utica.  Nothing  can  be  more  charming  to  the  vis 
itor  as  he  sits  in  the  shade  of  the  beech-trees  that 
skirt  the  winding  slopes,  and  watches  the  drowsy 
Mohawk  as  it  wends  its  way  with  sleepy  stillness 
through  cultivated  fields  and  thrifty  villages. 


12  A    WINTER  EVENING'S   TALE. 

Following  the  old  turnpike  for  a  short  distance, 
you  reach  an  old-fashioned  brick  house,  standing 
parallel  with  the  road  and  deeply  shaded  by  sugar 
maples.  You  notice  several  large  barns  and  other 
buildings,  and  on  either  side  of  the  road  long  rows 
of  wood  piled  up  ready  for  market.  Flocks  of  sheep 
are  grazing  and  fat  cattle  are  browsing  in  the 
meadows  and  upon  the  adjoining  hills.  Crossing 
the  bridge  which  spans  the  brook,  you  see  long 
rows  of  polished  milk-pans  shining  as  bright  as  the 
sun  that  strikes  them  at  noonday.  If  you  take  the 
trouble  to  walk  up  to  the  dairy  door,  and  ask  for  a 
drink  of  water,  it  will  be  something  unusual  if  you 
are  not  soon  seated  at  the  table  and  rewarded  with 
some  delicious  milk  and  a  plate  of  home-made  bread 
and  cheese.  Such  is  Rugby  Farm. 

It  was  Thanksgiving  week,  and  Philip  Rugby  was 
returning  home  from  the  village,  where  he  had  left 
the  usual  amount  of  poultry  for  sale  for  the  holi 
days.  On  arriving  at  the  barn,  in  the  rear  of  his 
father's  house,  he  tossed  the  reins  to  the  chore-boy 
and  hastily  entered  his  mother's  kitchen.  A  bright, 
cheerful  fire,  half  the  width  of  the  room,  threw  its 
ruddy  glow  far  over  the  tea-table  laden  with  but 
tered  toast  and  smoking  hot  biscuit,  white  as  the 
snow-flakes  on  Philip's  coat.  Handing  his  mother 
a  bundle  of  knickknacks,  purchased  at  the  village 
store,  and  tossing  some  letters  and  papers  upon  his 


THE  RUGBYS  OF  RUGBY  FARM.  13 

father's  desk,  he  hung  his  cap  and  overcoat  upon  a 
peg  behind  the  door,  and  quietly  took  his  seat  at 
the  table. 

There  was  something  about  Philip's  manner  and 
expression  that  attracted  his  mother's  attention  —  a 
sort  of  hidden  joy  which  seemed  too  good  to  keep, 
and  simply  awaited  a  favorable  opportunity  to  take 
the  family  by  surprise. 

"  Let  me  thank  you,  Philip,  for  the  bundle  you 
brought  me  from  Mrs.  Hathaway's,"  began  his 
mother,  "  but  where  are  the  shoes  you  were  to  bring 
me  from  Dobson's  ?  " 

"Why,  really,  mother,  I  forgot  to  call  for  them. 
It  got  to  be  quite  late,  and  the  snow  was  falling  so 
fast,  that  I  came  off  and  left  them  ;  but  I  shall  have 
to  go  down  again  Saturday,  and  I  won't  disappoint 
you  a  second  time." 

"  Well,  where  are  my  earrings  and  music  ? "  in 
quired  his  sister  Jane.  "  I  hope  you  have  not  for 
gotten  them  also." 

"  I  certainly  have,"  replied  her  brother,  running 
his  fingers  through  his  long  black  hair.  "The  fact 
of  the  matter  is  just  this  :  I  stayed  so  long  at  the 
post-office,  listening  to  the  news  from  the  gold 
regions,  that  I  only  wonder  I  did  not  start  for  that 
land  of  promise  instead  of  coming  home." 

"  Oh  dear,  Philip,  don't  say  another  word  about 
that  fairy-land,  of  which  no  one  seems  to  know  its 


14  A    WINTER  EVENING'S   TALE. 

position  or  to  whom  it  belongs,"  interposed  his 
mother  warmly.  "I  had  rather  follow  you  to  the 
grave,  than  see  you  go  to  that  land  of  delusion,  in 
stead  of  promise,  as  you  are  pleased  to  call  it." 

"  Yes,"  broke  in  the  Squire,  "  let  us  hope  you  are 
too  well  balanced  to  allow  the  fever  to  seize  you,  as 
it  has  the  Humphreys.  This  California  excitement, 
in  my  judgment,  is  a  decoy,  used  by  the  merchants, 
who  have  more  ships  than  freights,  and  the  birds 
caught  by  such  chaff  will  find  the  new  Eldorado,  if 
they  ever  reach  it,  to  be  a  country  of  fraud,  a 
wicked  snare  to  deceive  the  people,  and  to  make 
money." 

"  Perhaps  so,  father,  and  yet  many  of  our  best 
families  are  preparing  to  go." 

"  Very  true,  Phil.  Many  will  go,  but,  in  my  opin 
ion,  few  will  return.  I  confess  to  you  here,  that 
nothing  would  destroy  my  peace  of  mind  quicker 
than  to  see  you  yielding  to  the  influence  of  this 
Arabian  Nights'  dream  about  this  land  of  enchant 
ment.  For  I  assure  you  it  will  prove,  in  the  end,  a 
land  of  humbug  —  a  land  of  death." 

"  Well,  father,  I  have  a  bit  of  strange  news  to  tell 
you." 

"  Indeed  !    pray,  what  is  it  ?  " 

"  Why,  sir,  old  Graham  has  gone  to  New  York, 
en  route  to  this  '  land  of  death,'  as  you  call  it,  and 
the  whole  village  is  in  a  state  of  wild  excitement 
over  the  event." 


THE  RUGBYS  OF  RUGBY  FARM.  15 

"  Dear  me,  what  nonsense  ! "  ejaculated  the  Squire. 
"  Nothing  could  have  surprised  me  more/'  added 
his  father,  as  he  looked  up  to  his  wife  in  painful 
astonishment. 

"  Poor  Mrs.  Graham  !  what  will  become  of  her 
and  the  children  ?  "  suggested  Mrs.  Rugby,  as  her 
eyes  rested  upon  her  daughter  Jane,  who  sat  a  mute 
listener  to  this  strange  and  unexpected  conversa 
tion. 

"  He  has,"  continued  Philip,  "  quietly  matured  his 
plans,  mortgaged  his  place  heavily,  and  stepped  out 
of  town  without  bidding  good-by,  even  to  his  nearest 
neighbors  and  friends.  When  his  son  Frank  fol 
lows  him,  let  us  fervently  hope  he  will  manifest  a 
similar  spirit  of  forbearance." 

"  Are  we  to  understand  by  that,  Philip,"  inquired 
his  father,  visibly  affected,  "  that  Frank  is  to  ac 
company  him  in  this  strange  adventure  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir.  I  heard  him  read  a  letter,  which  he 
had  received  from  his  father,  before  all  the  folks  in 
the  post-office,  and  he  there  expressed  his  determi 
nation  to  leave  at  once  ;  and  I  ask  your  permission 
to  express  the  hope  that  nothing  will  occur  to 
change  or  modify  his  resolution." 

Jane  Rugby  looked  up  into  her  brother's  face,  at 
the  conclusion  of  his  last  remark,  with  an  expres 
sion  of  astonishment  and  alarm.  Astonished  at 
the  suddenness  of  this  painful  intelligence,  and 


1 6  A    WINTER  EVENING'S   TALE. 

alarmed  at  the  earnestness  of  her  brother's  studied 
insult.  The  timid  blush  that  had  suffused  her 
cheeks  at  the  mention  of  young  Graham's  name 
was  superseded  by  an  ashy  whiteness  which  be 
trayed  the  emotions  of  her  troubled  heart.  The 
tears  gathered  thick  and  fast  over  her  beautiful 
hazel  eyes,  and  as  they  rolled  down  her  face,  so 
perfectly  formed  and  yet  so  pitiful,  aroused  her 
mother's  love.  With  a  voice  sharp  and  full  of 
meaning  she  cried,  "  Philip,  this  is  indeed  cruel 
and  unmanly."  The  spiteful  suggestions  offered  in 
the  presence  of  the  family  had  wounded  deeply  and 
forever  that  pure,  innocent  girl.  The  struggle  to 
remain  firm  was  a  failure  —  the  tears  increased,  the 
lips  quivered,  the  hands  went  up,  and  with  one 
deep  distressing  sob  she  arose  from  the  table  and 
abruptly  left  the  room. 

It  was  customary  in  those  days  for  the  farmers' 
daughters  in  that  vicinity  to  give  social  parties  dur 
ing  the  winter,  and  to  invite  such  young  people  to 
their  paring-bees  as  pleased  their  fancy.  The  year 
before  the  characters  of  this  story  were  introduced 
to  our  readers,  there  had  been  one  of  these  peculiar 
but  happy  gatherings  at  Rugby  Farm,  and  among 
the  number  of  young  gentlemen  that  had  accepted 
Miss  Rugby's  invitation  was  Frank  Graham,  a  med 
ical  student,  home  on  a  brief  vacation  to  spend  the 
holidays  with  his  parents.  He  was  a  young  man  of 


THE  RUGBYS  OF  RUGBY  FARM.  I/ 

good  address  and  pleasing  manners,  full  of  frolic, 
and  loved  clearly  a  good  time.  During  the  evening 
he  introduced  some  new  plays  ;  he  showed  such 
judgment  in  the  choice  of  characters,  and  infused 
such  a  spirit  of  enthusiasm  into  the  arrangements 
of  the  pieces,  that  Jane  Rugby's  party  was  acknowl 
edged  the  most  successful  of  the  season.  The 
whole  assembly  was  delighted  with  the  novelties 
introduced,  and  charmed  with  the  happy  manner  in 
which  they  were  carried  out..  As  the  company  was 
about  to  break  up,  Miss  Rugby  took  occasion  to 
thank  young  Graham  for  the  assistance  so  unex 
pectedly  rendered  in  aiding  her  to  entertain  her 
friends.  As  she  spoke,  she  playfully  pinned  a  rose 
bud  to  the  lapel  of  his  coat,  and  followed  him  to  the 
door  that  led  out  under  the  sugar  maples  stripped  of 
their  foliage.  He  threw  the  folds  of  his  cloak  about 
her  unprotected  shoulders  as  she  assured  him  his 
visits  would  ever  be  welcomed  at  Rugby  Farm. 
The  moon  was  fast  sinking  behind  the  headland  that 
formed  the  "  Big-bend  "  in  the  Mohawk  River.  The 
horses  and  driver  were  impatient  at  the  delay,  while 
the  girls  wondered  what  kept  the  young  "  doctor  " 
so  long  at  the  gate.  And  yet  he  lingered,  because 
it  seemed  to  be  the  desire  of  each.  He  was  pleased 
—  she  more  than  pleased,  she  was  happy.  As  she 
put  her  little  hand  in  his,  and  drew  closer  to  him, 


1 8  A    WINTER  EVENING'S    TALE. 

her  heart  unconsciously  went  out  from  her  never  to 
return. 

It  was  many  hours  after  Jane  had  retired  ere  she 
closed  her  eyes  in  sleep.  The  vision  she  saw  in 
the  gray  of  that  November  morn  was  the  brightest 
of  her  whole  life.  It  was  a  vision  such  as  never  ap 
peared  to  her  before  ;  it  was  such  a  vision  as  never 
appeared  to  her  again  ;  it  was  God's  holiest  gift  to 
the  human  heart,  the  first  touch  of  love's  young 
dream. 

Squire  Rugby  was  a  well-to-do  farmer,  a  director 
in  the  Mohawk  Valley  Bank,  and  a  highly  respected 
man.  Mr.  Graham  was  superintendent  of  Little 
ton  Mills,  with  a  stipulated  income,  and  equally  re 
spected.  The  Squire,  in  his  official  capacity,  had 
rejected  Graham's  paper  at  the  bank  from  a  mis 
taken  sense  of  duty.  Mr.  Graham,  smarting  under 
the  fancied  wrong,  retaliated  by  refusing  to  pur 
chase  wood  and  wool  from  the  Rugby s.  Philip  felt 
the  most  sorely  grieved,  because  it  drove  him  to  dis 
tant  markets  to  dispose  of  their  goods,  thus  causing 
inconvenience  and  expense.  There  existed,  there 
fore,  at  the  commencement  of  our  tale,  a  coolness 
between  the  heads  of  these  two  families,  and  it 
needed  but  some  slight  cause  to  separate  them  en 
tirely. 

Thus  matters  stood  when  Frank  Graham  called 
at  Rugby  Farm  to  ask  permission  to  visit  their 


THE  RUG  SYS  OF  RUGBY  FARM.  19 

daughter.  He  was  received  with  freezing  polite 
ness  by  the  Squire,  who,  without  the  slightest  in 
terruption,  listened  feelingly  to  his  petition.  The 
Squire  then  assured  him  that  his  family  must  feel 
highly  honored  for  this  mark  of  his  esteem,  yet  he 
was  sorry  he  could  not  consent  to  his  gentlemanly 
proposition.  The  Squire  tried  to  impress  upon  him 
the  belief  that  there  were  no  special  objections  to 
him  as  a  man;  but  in  the  character  of  an  avowed 
suitor  for  his  daughter,  it  would  be  inconsistent  with 
the  feelings  of  the  family,  and  that  the  subject  must 
be  forever  dismissed.  Oh,  no ;  he  must  not  see 
Jane.  It  was  unnecessary,  and  the  Squire  must  use 
his  parental  authority  even  to  deny  Graham  that 
"  small  favor."  "  You,  sir,"  suggested  the  Squire 
warmly,  "are  a  young  man  of  undoubted  abilities, 
and  if  they  are  zealously  directed  in  the  profession 
you  have  chosen,  I  bespeak  for  you  a  brilliant  ca 
reer.  Life  is  before  you,  and  the  future  will  fully 
compensate  you  for  such  a  trifling  loss.  Good 
night,  sir,  I  hope  you  will  reach  home  safely  before 
the  storm  bursts.  It  seems  near  and  threatening." 
And  thus  the  interview  ended. 

This  led  to  secret  correspondence  and  intercepted 
letters,  which  were  burnt  unopened  in  the  presence 
of  the  family.  Then  came  clandestine  meetings 
upon  Rugby  Hill  —  not  many  it  is  true,  but  just 
sufficient  to  fan  this  smoldering  fire  into  an  im 
mense  conflagration. 


2O  A    WINTER  EVENING'S   TALE. 

Philip  Rugby  thought  that  if  he  prevented  an  in 
terview  between  his  sister  Jane  and  Frank,  now 
about  to  start  for  California,  this  silly  school-girl 
love  would  be  crushed  in  the  bud,  and  in  a  few 
months  the  young  "  doctor  "  would  be  remembered 
only  as  a  thing  of  the  past 

A  few  days  after  this  episode  occurred  in  Mrs. 
Rugby's  kitchen,  Frank  Graham  left  his  home  for 
Rugby  Farm.  He  took  the  bridle  path  through  the 
woods,  and  after  a  smart  walk  reached  the  turnpike 
that  ran  parallel  with  the  Mohawk  River.  It  was 
a  cold  winter  night,  the  keen  air  bit  sharply,  and 
the  light  early  snow  falling  from  the  trees  and 
blowing  into  his  face  caused  him  to  experience  all 
the  bitterness  of  a  blinding  snow-storm.  As  he 
walked  briskly  up  the  road,  there  seemed  an  om 
inous  silence  around  and  about  him.  The  darkness 
and  the  moaning  of  the  wind  caused  his  mind  to 
fill  with  painful  forebodings.  The  question  upper 
most  in  his  mind  was  relative  to  his  reception  at 
Squire  Rugby's.  Would  the  visit,  the  most  trying 
one  of  his  life,  be  met  with  cold  indifference,  or 
would  it  terminate  in  friendly  reconciliation.  Would 
his  constancy  and  love  be  rewarded  with  hearty 
greetings,  or  would  he  be  driven  from  the  door. 
These  and  similar  feelings  preyed  upon  his  mind  as 
his  eyes  rested  upon  the  lights  shining  through  the 
windows  of  the  Rugby  mansion. 


THE  RUGBYS  OF  RUGBY  FARM.  21 

Frank  Graham  was  a  student  struggling  for  a 
profession,  dependent  upon  his  father's  will  and 
means,  and  deeply  attached  to  Jane  Rugby.  He 
was  to  leave  the  next  day  for  New  York,  there  to 
meet  his  father  and  to  accompany  him  in  his  peril 
ous  enterprise.  The  dangers  they  must  face,  the 
hardships  they  must  endure,  were  nothing  compared 
to  the  loss  of  this  beautiful  girl,  who  had  become 
the  queen  of  his  heart  and  the  idol  of  his  soul. 

Far  back  in  the  previous  spring  he  had  been  re 
spectfully  forbidden  to  visit  Rugby  Farm,  where  his 
most  sacred  feelings  had  been  treated  with  ridicule 
and  scorn.  Now  what  could  he  expect  but  a  cold 
and  icy  welcome.  With  courage  equal  to  the  occa 
sion  he  passed  under  the  sugar  maples  on  to  the 
portico  where  he  had  stood  one  year  before.  Yes, 
right  there  he  had  tenderly  covered  that  slender 
form  and  drawn  that  sweet  little  face  to  his,  looked 
down  into  those  beautiful  hazel  eyes,  and  drank  in 
the  holy  influence  which  came  up  through  them 
from  her  pure  and  guileless  heart.  The  family  were 
all  at  home,  seated,  and  engaged  in  varied  occupa 
tions  around  their  broad  kitchen  fire.  The  sharp 
ring  of  the  door-bell  resounded  throughout  the 
house.  Philip  Rugby  arose  and  answered  it  at  once. 
Grasping  the  half  closed  door  with  one  hand,  and 
holding  a  lamp  over  his  head,  he  desired  to  know 
Frank's  business.  "I  wish  to  see  your  father,  sir," 


22  A    WINTER  EVENINGS   TALE. 

replied  Frank,  stepping  inside  the  hall  without  being 
asked,  and  without  hesitation  walked  proudly  into 
the  adjoining  room. 

There  was  mischief  in  that  reply  which  Philip 
Rugby  dared  not  encounter  alone,  so  leaving  the 
lamp  upon  the  table  he  strode  into  the  kitchen 
and  announced  the  visitor's  name  to  his  father. 

Squire  Rugby,  with  a  dark  frown  upon  his  face, 
looked  quickly  up  from  his  paper,  and  turned  his 
eyes  hurriedly  round  the  room,  until  they  rested 
upon  his  daughter  Jane.  Whispering  a  few  words 
to  Philip  and  giving  a  peremptory  order  for  Jane  to 
go  immediately  to  her  room,  he  tossed  his  paper 
upon  the  table  with  an  angry  gesture,  and  told  his 
son  to  follow  him  with  the  horse-whip. 

"  So,  sir,"  began  the  Squire,  straightening  him 
self  almost  to  the  ceiling,  and  looking  down  upon 
young  Graham  with  commanding  superiority,  —  "So, 
sir,  you  are  the  young  gentleman  who  came  here 
last  spring  to  seek  the  hand  of  my  daughter,  and 
because  you  were  refused,  resorted  to  deception,  and 
decoyed  my  child  into  the  woods  and  taught  her  to 
disobey  her  parents." 

"  I  deny  nothing,"  meekly  replied  Frank,  "  not 
even  my  unquenchable  love  for  Jane,  which  has  gone 
beyond  my  power  to  control." 

"  So  it  would  seem,"  retorted  the  Squire,  sneer- 
ingly,  and  then  added  :  "  You  have  come  a  long  way 


THE  RUGBYS  OF  RUGBY  FARM.  23 

to  get  a  good  flogging.  Well,  you  could  not  have 
selected  a  healthier  night  or  a  more  befitting  occa 
sion." 

"  Indeed,  sir,  I  have  come  for  nothing  of  the 
kind,"  answered  Frank,  as  Philip  entered  the  room 
with  the  long-handled  whip  in  his  hand.  "  It  is  the 
last  place  on  earth,"  added  Graham,  "  where  I  should 
expect  to  receive  either  insult  or  barbarous  treat 
ment." 

"You  deserve  both,  sir,"  chimed  in  Philip,  "and 
it  shall  not  be  my  fault  if  you  don't  get  enough  to 
last  you  as  long  as  you  live." 

"  I  appeal  to  you,  Squire  Rugby,  as  a  man  of 
honor,  to  listen  to  my  request,  and  to  omit  these  in 
dignities.  I  leave  for  California  to-morrow,  sir," 
continued  Frank,  solemnly,  "  and  I  came  here  to 
beseech  you  to  permit  me  a  brief  interview  with 
your  daughter.  Surely,  sir,  on  the  eve  of  my  de 
parture  you  cannot  refuse  me  such  a  privilege ;  it 
may  be  a  final  meeting." 

"  I  shall  refuse  you  everything  but  the  right  to 
leave  this  house  immediately,"  answered  the  Squire, 
"and  your  instant  exit  will  confirm  the  judgment  I 
have  hitherto  entertained  of  your  ability  to  foresee 
coming  danger." 

"  Then,  sir,"  demanded  Graham,  "  you  positively 
refuse  me  this  favor  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir,  I  do,"  replied  the  Squire,  stepping  back 


24  A    WINTER  EVENING'S   TALE, 

and  grasping  the  whipstock,  "  and  I  am  strongly 
tempted  to  hasten  your  departure  with  something 
which  will  prevent  your  ever  coming  here  again." 

"  Spare  yourself  the  trouble  and  your  house  the 
shame  such  treatment  would  bring  upon  it.  I  will 
leave  at  once." 

Jane  Rugby  having  been  dismissed  from  the 
kitchen,  and  ordered  to  her  room,  obeyed.  But  the 
moment  she  had  recovered  from  the  shock,  she  be 
gan  to  devise  means  by  which  she  might  give  Gra 
ham  a  casket  she  had  prepared  for  him  should  she 
fail,  like  him,  to  bring  about  an  interview.  The 
great  crisis  of  her  life  had  come,  and  it  was  impos 
sible  for  her  to  resist  the  promptings  of  her  own 
heart.  Hastily  covering  herself  with  a  heavy  quilt, 
she  stepped  out  through  the  window  over  the  front 
door,  and  steadying  herself  by  clinging  to  the  old 
grape-vine,  she  reached  the  shelving  of  the  por 
tico  in  safety.  Here,  shivering  and  benumbed  with 
cold,  she  sat  awaiting  his  coming. 

The  door  had  scarcely  closed  upon  young  Graham 
when  he  was  attracted  by  a  peculiar  sound  appar 
ently  coming  from  the  top  of  the  trees  which  over 
hung  the  roof  of  the  house.  The  jar  of  the  door 
bolt  had  died  away,  and  the  lights  had  disappeared 
from  the  sitting-room.  Again  this  low,  stifled  cry 
came  down  through  the  freezing  night  air.  Surely 
that  name  was  his.  He  could  not  be  mistaken 


THE  RUGBYS   OF  RUGBY  FARM.  2$ 

He  stood  riveted  to  the  spot,  listening  in  breathless 
silence.  His  eyes  had  now  become  accustomed  to 
the  darkness,  and  straining  them  to  their  utmost,  he 
fancied  he  saw  the  outlines  of  a  human  form  stand 
ing  upon  the  shelving  of  the  portico.  Bounding 
back  with  the  spring  of  an  antelope,  his  heart  throb 
bing  with  suppressed  joy,  he  peered  through  the  in 
creased  darkness,  and  beheld  with  startled  wonder 
his  devoted  queen,  Jane  Rugby.  "  God  bless  you, 
darling,  for  this  proof  of  your  love  for  me.  Tell 
me  quickly  how  I  can  reach  you,  for  I  must  kiss 
you  good-by,  though  I  perish  for  it  the  next  mo 
ment." 

"  Speak  low,  Frank  dear,  or  we  shall  be  discov 
ered.  Climb  the  second  tree  to  your  left,  follow  the 
third  limb,  and  it  will  bring  you  within  a  few  feet  of 
where  I  am.  Be  careful  of  yourself,  dear,  and  don't 
make  any  noise."  This  Graham  accomplished,  and 
on  reaching  the  end  of  the  limb  sprang  upon  the 
shelving,  and  catching  Jane  in  his  arms  kissed  her 
with  fervency  and  love. 

Time  was  too  precious,  however,  to  waste  in  use 
less  repining,  the  fear  of  detection  too  imminent  to 
prolong  the  interview  beyond  the  interchange  of 
mutual  vows  and  farewells,  and  the  night  air  too 
cold  to  peril  the  joy  of  his  life.  This  stolen  inter 
view,  which,  perhaps,  was  to  be  their  last  in  this  life ; 
this  blessed  meeting,  upon  which  the  very  essence 


26  A    WINTER  EVENING' S   TALE. 

of  the  future  depended  ;  this  grateful  opportunity, 
which  had  been  so  auspiciously  granted  to  them, 
must  be  consecrated  to  the  great  aim  of  their  lives 
—  to  meet  again. 

This,  then,  was  a  purely  business  meeting,  and, 
like  all  such  meetings,  was  brief  and  to  the  point. 
Tears  had  to  be  suppressed,  the  anguish  of  the  soul 
smothered,  and  the  tenderest  emotions  of  the  heart 
allowed  to  die  upon  the  lips.  "  Take  this  box, 
Frank  dear.  It  contains  a  few  articles  which  will 
be  useful  to  you  in  the  country  which  I  trust  you 
will  reach  in  safety.  Let  me  hope  it  will  remind 
you  of  the  giver.  In  it  you  will  also  find  a  letter 
more  expressive  than  wise,  perhaps.  I  feared  I 
should  not  get  the  opportunity  to  tell  you  how  dear 
you  are  to  me.  Besides,  you  will  find  a  ring,  the 
emblem  of  my  plighted  love  to  you.  Keep  it  as  a 
talisman,  and  return  it  to  me  when  your  love  for  me 
is  dead.  Last,  but  not  least,  is  the  picture  of  your 
affianced  wife.  Frank,  darling,  I  have  suffered  for 
you  so  much ;  I  must  continue  to  suffer  for  your 
sake.  This  suffering  is  the  price  I  pay  for  my  un 
dying  love  for  you.  Promise  me,  darling,  before 
God,  in  whose  presence  we  stand  to-night,  you  will 
be  faithful  and  come  again  to  me." 

"I  do  promise  you,  Jane,  most  solemnly.  Aye,  I 
swear  by  my  sainted  mother,  who,  in  my  eyes,  em 
bodies  all  the  perfections  of  nature,  to  do  all  you 


THE  RUGBYS   OF  RUGBY  FARM.  2/ 

could  wish  of  me.  I  could  not  do  otherwise  —  be- 
cause  I  seem  to  have  absorbed  you  spiritually.  You 
have  become  absolutely  essential  to  my  existence. 
We  are  utterly  inseparable,  and  I  love  you  with  all 
the  strength  of  my  heart." 

"  Hush,  Frank  —  see  those  lights  —  they  are  mov 
ing  about  the  house  —  I  am  missed.  Oh,  merciful 
Father,  can  I  let  you  go." 

"  One  word  more,  Jane,  and  then  farewell.  Go  to 
my  mother  in  your  distress  ;  you  can  expect  no  sym 
pathy  from  your  own.  She  will,  for  my  sake,  com 
fort  you,  and  prove  your  friend  in  need.  There  is 
a  package  for  you,  left  in  her  care,  and  it  contains 
similar  gifts  to  those  you  have  just  given  to  me. 
Promise  me  here,  darling,  before  God  —  that  you 
will  never  marry  until  you  receive  back  your  talis 
man,  or  are  assured  that  I  am  dead." 

"  Let  us  make  that  pledge  mutual,  my  poor  dear 
boy,  and  seal  it." 

Thus  standing  upon  the  shelving  of  the  portico, 
shivering  in  a  biting  northwest  wind  on  a  cold  win 
ter  night,  they  mutually  sealed  their  vows  of  eter 
nal  constancy  and  separated.  It  was,  however,  a  for 
cible  separation,  and  the  consequences  came  very 
near  being  disastrous.  For  Jane  had  barely  reached 
her  room,  when  Frank,  becoming  alarmed  for  his 
own  safety,  sprang  out  from  the  shelving  and  caught 
the  first  limb  in  his  fall.  The  sudden  and  increased 


28  A    WINTER  EVENINGS    TALE. 

weight  tore  the  branch  from  the  tree,  and  both 
Graham  and  the  limb  went  down  to  the  ground 
with  a  crash.  Before  he  could  recover  from  the 
shock,  or  even  disentangle  himself  from  the  en- 
snarled  twigs,  the  Squire  had  reached  the  front 
door  with  a  hand-lamp,  and  Philip  was  seen  with  a 
lantern  hurrying  from  the  driveway  to  the  road. 
Graham  crawled  out  as  best  he  could,  and  took  ref 
uge  behind  a  row  of  cord-wood.  Finding  there  was 
no  escape,  he  seized  a'  catstick,  and  struck  the  lan 
tern  with  such  force  as  to  send  it  whirling  across 
the  field.  Squire  Rugby  hurried  into  his  library  for 
his  shot-gun,  and  Philip  ran  to  the  barn  to  loosen 
the  dog.  But  before  either  returned  Graham  had 
reached  the  bridle  path  and  was  soon  under  the  pro 
tection  of  his  own  roof. 

The  day  had  now  arrived  when  Frank  Graham 
was  to  leave  home,  and  launch  out  into  the  great 
sea  of  life.  It  was  a  cold  December  morning,  the 
fitful  wind  drifted  the  snow  into  vast  heaps,  which 
loomed  up,  like  monuments,  to  the  obscured  sun. 
The  deep  forest  moaned  and  sighed  ;  the  tree-tops 
bowed  in  obedience  to  the  storm ;  the  young  cow 
lowed  for  lack  of  care ;  while  the  black  dog  whined 
with  up-turned  eyes,  and  laid  his  troubled  head  upon 
the  knees  of  his  mistress. 

The  echo  of  the  bugle's  tone  denoted  the  arrival 
of  the  stage,  and  startled  the  family  from  an  un- 


THE  RUGBYS  OF  RUGBY  FARM.  29 

happy  reverie,  while  the  approaching  bells  awakened 
the  pangs  of  separation.  The  warm  embrace,  the 
tender  kiss,  the  heart's  deepest  emotions,  the  bless 
ings  and  good-byes  were  uttered,  and  the  "All 
aboard  "  closed  the  scene. 

Frank  turned  about  in  his  seat  to  take  a  last,  fond 
look  of  the  village  and  his  dear  old  cottage  home. 
The  church,  with  its  long  tapering  finger  pointing 
high  up  into  the  sky,  was  growing  momentarily 
more  indistinct  as  it  receded  from  his  view.  The 
sloping  hills  and  broad  rolling  meadows  were  cov 
ered  with  winter's  deep  snow.  The  Mohawk,  con 
gealed  from  shore  to  shore,  rolled  along  under  its 
icy  coverlet  in  dreamy  silence.  But  there,  back 
against  the  hill,  with  the  curling  smoke  rising  grace 
fully  into  the  midst  of  the  falling  snow,  stood  his 
quaint  little  home.  He  looked  upon  the  fast  fading 
scene,  and  followed  the  irregular  snow-drifts  from 
the  spot  where  the  faithful  dog  was  howling  after 
his  master,  to  the  foot  of  the  lawn,  where,  with 
uncovered  head  and  handkerchief  waving  in  the 
snowy  air,  he  saw  his  poor  old  mother  leaning  over 
the  garden  gate,  the  very  image  of  desolation  and 
despair.  He  waved  his  hat  while  the  tears  froze  to 
his  cheeks,  and  when  the  turn  in  the  road  peremp 
torily  closed  the  scene,  he  wrapped  his  cloak  about 
him  and  yielded  his  heart  to  the  wildest  grief. 


CHAPTER   IV. 

THE    ARBOR,    THE    GEM    OF   THE   BOWERY. 

"  Saxy  —  take  the  butt." 

"  Now  say  ole  man  — what  d'  ye  take  me  for — a  foofoo." 

"  I  'se  a  butcher  boy,  I  is.     If  yer  don't  believe  what  I  say,  smell  of  my  boots." 

MOSE. 

COURTLAND  STREET,  in  New  York  city,  improved 
but  little  from  1848  up  to  1870,  when  we  last  saw  it. 
It  was  then  what  it  was  twenty-two  years  before, 
and  probably  is  to-day,  —  a  narrow,  dirty  thorough 
fare,  leading  from  Broadway  down  to  the  ferry. 
The  Howard  House,  situated  near  the  river,  with 
rather  a  pleasing  exterior  for  the  locality,  offered 
all  the  inducements  of  other  hotels  to  catch  the 
adventurous  Californian.  These  were  the  harvest 
times  for  hackmen  and  hotel  proprietors,  as  many 
unwary  countrymen  found  to  their  cost. 

The  Howard  House  was  where  Frank  Graham 
found  his  father  on  arriving  in  that  city  early  one 
morning  in  December,  1848.  How  Mr.  Graham 
happened  to  get  into  such  questionable  quarters, 
can  best  be  explained  by  him  in  his  defense  to  his 
son. 

On  his  arrival  at  the  station,  on  the  night  train 


THE  ARBOR,  THE  GEM  OF  THE  BOWERY.   31 

from  Albany,*  he  became,  he  said,  absolutely  over 
whelmed  with  the  noise  of  the  bullying  hackmen, 
who  seemed  to  outnumber  the  passengers  that  had 
accompanied  him  on  the  train.  His  voice  was 
drowned  by  their  loud  and  persistent  cries,  and  his 
efforts  to  make  known  his  wishes  were  smothered 
in  the  confusion  and  uproar.  He  was  rudely  caught 
by  his  coat-collar  by  one  man,  and  instantly  seized 
and  hustled  away  by  another.  In  this  inextricable 
jam  his  life  was  in  imminent  danger,  and  he  seemed 
to  have  fallen  into  a  den  of  wild  beasts  rather  than 
among  civilized  men  who  are  supposed  to  be  the 
travelers'  protectors  and  guides.  He  had  no  recol 
lection  how  he  reached  the  hack,  or  how  the  driver 
got  his  checks,  but  he  was  both  astonished  and 
pleased  to  discover  in  the  room  assigned  him,  that 
not  only  himself  but  his  baggage  was  safe. 

Mr.  Graham's  general  appearance,  it  seems,  caused 
no  little  commotion  among  the  "  regular  boarders  " 
and  frequenters  of  this  busy  little  oyster-house. 
Such  a  prize  did  not  drop  in  their  way  very  often, 
and  such  a  prize  must  not  be  allowed  to  slip  through 
their  fingers  without  an  effort  to  secure  it.  So 
Frank  Graham  was  not  surprised,  when  shown  into 
his  father's  room  on  the  morning  of  his  arrival,  to 
find  him  greatly  distressed  and  his  baggage  strewed 
all  over  the  floor.  He  had  been  robbed. 

A  mistaken  sense  of  economy  on  the  part  of  Mr. 


32  A    WINTER  EVENING'S  TALE. 

Graham  had  periled  their  adventure,  and  but  for 
the  timely  arrival  of  his  son  would  have  left  them 
penniless,  and  brought  their  bright  anticipations  to 
a  disastrous  end.  Mr.  Graham,  however,  had  no 
sooner  received  his  son's  letter  assuring  him  that 
he  would  meet  him  the  following  Thursday,  than  he 
purchased  two  tickets  on  the  ship  Orpheus,  which 
was  advertised  to  sail  in  a  few  days,  and  took  the 
precaution  to  go  aboard  and  select  a  double  berth 
near  the  fore-hatch.  He  had  also  purchased  a  reg 
ular  line  of  provisions  which  had  been  duly  accepted 
by  the  officers  of  the  ship.  Fortunately  for  both 
Mr.  Graham  and  his  son,  the  tickets  for  the  voyage 
were  not  ready,  but  a  written  order  in  their  favor 
on  Messrs.  Tracy  &  Co.  to  cover  the  purchase- 
money  was  given  to  him  instead. 

The  robbery  was  both  successful  and  complete. 
Everything  which  the  thieves  could  make  available 
was  taken.  Mr.  Graham's  clothes  had  been  so  thor 
oughly  examined  that  the  bulk  of  his  funds  was 
gone,  also  the  order  for  the  tickets,  which  he  had 
taken  so  much  pains  to  conceal.  This  was,  indeed, 
a  most  distressing  state  of  things,  for  this  order  in 
sured  the  holders  their  passage  to  San  Francisco, 
and  was  therefore  of  far  more  importance  to  them 
than  its  value  in  money.  Unless  they  could  recover 
this  order,  or  prevent  its  exchange  for  the  tickets, 
they  would  be  left  a  financial  wreck,  and  must  re 
turn  to  their  home  broken  and  penniless. 


THE  ARBOR,  THE  GEM  OF  THE  BOWERY.   33 

Nothing  was  said  or  done  to  create  the  least  sus 
picion  in  the  minds  of  the  proprietors  of  the  How 
ard  House,  but  as  soon  as  they  had  completed  their 
arrangements,  they  quietly  left  their  lodgings.  Mr. 
Graham  went  immediately  to  the  shipping  office, 
and  Frank  inquired  his  way  to  the  City  Hall,  and 
placed  the  matter  in  the  hands  of  the  police  depart 
ment.  The  anxiety  with  which  Frank  awaited  the 
return  of  his  father  can  never  be  fully  described. 
But  he  returned,  thank  Heaven,  and  the  moment 
their  eyes  met  he  knew  they  were  safe,  and  the 
meeting  between  them  was  the  happiest  they  had 
ever  experienced.  Yes,  the  scoundrel  had  been  to 
Messrs.  Tracy  &  Co.'s  office.  He  had  used  every 
means  to  realize  the  money  on  the  ticket  order,  but 
failing  in  that,  he  had  demanded  the  tickets,  which 
were  produced.  But  a  pen  and  the  order  being 
handed  to  him,  with  the  request  that  the  latter  be 
indorsed  on  its  back,  caused  him  to  hesitate,  and 
without  even  raising  his  eyes  from  the  paper,  or 
showing  the  slightest  uneasiness,  he  laid  down  the 
pen,  and  leaving  the  order  upon  the  counter,  turned 
upon  his  heels,  and  quickly  left  the  office. 

Mr.  Graham  and  his  son  left  the  Howard  House, 
and  took  up  their  quarters  at  Lovejoy's,  Park  Row. 
The  broken  blade  of  the  oyster-knife  found  inside 
of  the  rifled  trunk,  and  the  description  of  the  man 
who  presented  the  ticket  order  at  the  shipping  of- 


34  A    WINTER  EVENINGS   TALE. 

fice,  brought  the  two  thieves  to  the  Tombs,  and  sent 
them  finally  to  Blackwell's  Island. 

Let  us  continue  this  story  a  little  farther  to  show 
our  reader  the  reward  which  Frank  Graham  re 
ceived  before  his  vessel  sailed  from  New  York,  for 
his  persistent  efforts  to  assist  the  law  to  punish 
criminals  and  suppress  crime.  A  few  days  before 
the  trial  of  these  two  men  came  off,  and  shortly 
after  supper,  Mr.  Graham,  with  a  couple  of  friends, 
started  for  the  Broadway  Theatre  to  see  Lester 
personate  the  Count  of  Monte  Cristo.  Frank  Gra 
ham  remained  at  the  hotel,  where  the  following  in 
teresting  colloquy  took  place,  which  shall  be  given 
to  the  reader  in  the  exact  words  he  used  to  relate 
the  circumstances  to  his  father  on  his  return  to  their 
lodgings  :  — 

"  Well,  father,  now  that  we  are  alone,  I  have  an 
interesting  story,  which,  when  you  have  taken  off 
your  boots  and  got  settled  in  your  chair,  I  will  relate 
to  you  in  detail,  as  near  as  I  can  remember." 

"  I  am  all  ready,  Frank ;  please  proceed." 

"  Well,  sir,"  resumed  Frank,  "  after  you  and  your 
friends  had  gone,  I  took  a  seat  by  the  fire  in  the 
reading  room,  and  was  engaged  in  conversation 
with  some  friends  upon  the  rascally  schemes  the 
city  sharpers  have  concocted  to  capture  and  fleece 
the  unsophisticated  countrymen  en  route  to  the  land 
of  gold.  At  that  moment  a  gentlemanly  looking 


THE  ARBOR,    THE   GEM  OF  THE  BOWERY.      35 

man  with  a  black,  sickly  looking  moustache,  and 
strong  marks  of  dissipation  about  his  eyes,  stepped 
up  and  said  inquiringly,  'Your  name  is  Graham, 
I  believe.'  'Yes,  sir,'  I  replied,  rising  .politely,  'it 
is/  'My  name,'  began  the  stranger,  smiling,  'is 
Blackmore.'  '  Allow  me  please  to  introduce  to  you 
my  friend,  Dixon.'  Mr.  Dixon  came  up,  and  bowing 
rather  awkwardly,  said,  '  Happy,  sir,  to  make  your 
acquaintance.'  Mr.  Blackmore  was  a  tall  man,  slimly 
built,  and  fairly  dressed,  and  to  my  mind  represented 
a  Cooper  Street  graduate.  Mr.  Dixon,  on  the  other 
hand,  was  a  short,  thick-set  man  with  a  round  full 
face,  wearing  a  red  neck-tie  and  a  rather  attractive 
shirt.  It  was  made  of  a  dark  green  cassimere,  with 
a  small  Masonic  figure  at  the  base,  partially  con 
cealed  by  a  red  vine  resembling  an  English  ivy, 
which  ran  up  the  body.  Mr.  Dixon  was  typical  of 
the  Bowery  boy  so  famed  in  the  social  calendar  of 
this  city. 

" '  Gentlemen,'  said  I  persuasively,  '  please  be 
seated.'  Mr.  Blackmore  answered  blandly,  'Thank 
you,  but  we  have  come  here  to  invite  you  out  to 
night.  You  know  Game's  restaurant  on  Ann  Street,' 
continued  that  gentleman,  with  great  suavity,  'at 
that  place  are  two  ladies  waiting  to  see  you.' 

"  '  Indeed,  sir,'  I  laughingly  replied,  '  there  must 
be  some  mistake,  we  have  no  lady  acquaintances  in 
this  city.' 


36  A    WINTER  EVENING'S   TALE. 

" '  We  suspected  as  much,'  enticingly  laughed  Mr. 
Dixon,  'and  so  for  that  reason,  we  propose  intro 
ducing  you  to  two  handsome  ones  to  begin  with/ 
he  added,  with  a  clumsy  chuckle. 

"'Ah,  sirs,  I  don't  deserve  this  great  considera 
tion.  It  is  really  too  much/  I  said,  deprecatingly ; 
'and  I  deeply  regret  that  I  must  decline  the  honor/ 
I  added,  with  a  decisive  shake  of  the  head. 

"Mr.  Blackmore  now  began  his  work  in  earnest, 
and  at  every  opportune  moment  his  friend  Dixon 
threw  in  his  morsel  of  help.  '  The  ladies/  he  said, 
'  were  the  broken-hearted  wives  of  the  two  men  who 
have  been  arrested  on  suspicion  of  having  robbed 
Mr.  Graham's  trunk.  The  suspicion,  however,  is 
groundless,  and  their  friends  the  victims  of  circum 
stantial  evidence.  They  have  known  these  men  from 
boyhood,  and  they  have  borne  an  irreproachable 
character.  They  should  not  be  appeared  against, 
but  their  case  allowed  to  go  by  default.'  Why,  sir, 
these  men  made  a  deep  impression  upon  my  mind, 
and  my  doubts  increased  accordingly.  Why,  father, 
I  cheerfully  confess  to  you  that  at  one  period  of  the 
interview  I  possessed  a  weakness  which  came  near 
cheating  justice  of  her  dues,  and  allowing  these  in 
nocent  ones  to  escape  their  just  rewards.  Indeed, 
sir,  I  was  at  one  time  deeply  concerned  about  my 
own  conduct  in  the  matter,  and  was  at  the  point  of 
offering  a  formal  apology  and  saying  to  these  men, 


THE  ARBOR,  THE  GEM  OF  THE  BOWERY.   37 

that  the  case  should  be  dropped,  and  their  perse 
cuted  friends  allowed  to  depart  in  peace.  I  might 
possibly  have  consented  to  some  such  terms,  but  the 
more  I  examined  that  shirt,  the  more  I  became  troub 
led,  and  I  concluded  to  sum  the  case  up  in  one 
brief  question.  So  I  said,  addressing  myself  to 
both  gentlemen,  who,  for  the  first  time,  now  looked 
into  my  face  with  symptoms  of  suspicion,  — 

"'Let  me  be  just  to  my  own  feelings  as  well  as 
to  your  imprisoned  friends,  whose  fate  will  depend, 
as  far  as  I  am  concerned,  upon  the  answer  you  give 
to  the  following  question,  Mr.  Dixon.  If  you  an 
swer  it  as  you  should,  your  friends  will  have  no  oc 
casion  to  regret  your  intercession.  If  you  do  not 
reply  to  it  in  a  manner  entitled  to  my  respect,  our 
interview  and  acquaintance  must  come  to  an  end. 
Do  you  assent,  gentlemen  ? '  '  Oh,  yes,'  they  replied, 
cautiously.  Then  looking  him  right  in  the  eyes, 
I  said,  pointedly  :  '  Mr.  Dixon,  where  did  you  get 
that  shirt  ? '  pointing  to  the  one  he  wore,  which 
supported  a  pin  of  doubtful  character.  '  Really,  sir, 
you  are  rather  too  personal  for  your  strength,' 
gruffly  retorted  Mr.  Dixon,  rising  stiffly  in  his  chair, 
and  drawing  his  coat-tail  closely  about  his  loins. 

"  '  I  beg  your  pardon,  sir,'  I  said,  appealing  to  Mr. 
Blackmore,  who  sat  uneasily  in  his  seat,  and  seemed 
fearful  lest  he  should  compromise  his  friend.  '  I 
believe,  sir,  that  was  the  understanding,  and  I  shall 
insist  upon  a  prompt  reply.' 


38  A    WINTER  EVENING'S   TALE. 

"  Mr.  Blackmore,  looking  cautiously  into  the  face 
of  his  friend,  and  anxiously  awaiting  some  sign  by 
which  he  could  judicially  act,  was  about  to  speak, 
when  Dixon,  without  changing  his  position,  naively 
retorted  :  '  Why,  sir,  I  bought  it,  and  therefore  came 
honestly  by  it.' 

" '  The  goods  from  which  your  shirt  was  made,' 
I  resumed,  '  were  manufactured  at  the  Middleton 
Mills  of  this  State.  My  father  designed  that  pat 
tern  and  the  goods  were  made  under  his  supervision. 
From  a  piece  of  those  goods  his  wife  made  him  six 
shirts,  which  constituted  a  part  of  his  effects  on  his 
leaving  home  for  this  city.  If  the  shirt  which  Mr. 
Dixon  wears  is  one  of  those  stolen  from  the  trunk 
at  the  Howard  House  last  Wednesday,  I  will  show 
both  of  you  gentlemen  my  father's  name  worked  in 
full  in  the  lap  which  forms  the  stay  in  the  bosom. 
If  the  name  is  there,  Mr.  Dixon,  the  shirt  is  not 
yours  and  you  did  not  come  honestly  by  it.  If  the 
name  is  not  there,  you  will,  I  am  sure,  as  readily 
forgive  me  as  I  shall  forgive  your  accused  friends. 
I  am  ready,  gentlemen,  to  risk  the  reputation  and 
the  innocence  of  your  friends  upon  the  finding  of 
that  name.  If  you,  gentlemen,  are  ready  to  stake 
your  interest  upon  the  result  of  an  investigation,  let 
us  walk  into  the  clerk's  office  at  once.'  A  death 
like  silence  ensued,  —  a  painful  silence,  which,  al 
though  it  lasted  but  a  minute,  seemed  to  me  much 


THE  ARBOR,  THE  GEM  OF  THE  BOWERY.   39 

longer,  during  which  I  watched  both  of  these  men. 
Blackmore,  dumbfounded  and  astonished,  looked 
into  the  face  of  his  friend,  covered  as  it  was  with 
guilt  and  anger.  Rising  to  his  feet  with  a  sudden 
bound,  Mr.  Dixon  said,  as  he  buttoned  his  coat  over 
his  broad,  muscular  chest,  '  Blackmore,  I  have  sub 
mitted  to  this  youngster's  insults  as  long  as  I  care 
to.  If  his  base  insinuations  are  pleasing  to  you, 
they  are  not  so  to  me  ; '  and  with  a  look  upon  his 
face  I  shall  never  forget  he  whirled  round  upon  his 
heel,  and  walked  rapidly  out  of  the  hotel.  Mr. 
Blackmore  immediately  followed,  and  simply  bowing 
with  deep  courtesy  said  '  good-night.' 

"  Soon  after  came  another  actor  in  this  little  farce, 
a  closely  shaven  man  with  false  whiskers,  in  the 
role  of  a  detective.  He  claimed  a  private  interview 
with  me,  and  ever  and  anon  exposed  his  assumed 
badge  with  '  private  detective  '  pinned  upon  his  vest. 
He  assured  me,  confidentially,  that  his  visit  was 
more  of  inquiry  than  of  arrest.  I  had,  he  said,  in 
cautiously  admitted  to  the  friends  of  these  two  crim 
inals  in  the  Tombs  my  willingness  to  drop  the  suit, 
should  the  stolen  goods  be  returned  at  once.  This, 
in  the  eye  of  the  law,  he  said,  was  collusion,  and 
might  endanger  my  own  safety  at  the  moment  when 
our  ship  was  ready  to  sail.  Statements  to  this  effect 
had  been  made  and  recorded  at  'headquarters.'  The 
law  was  most  severe,  and  justice  blind  to  misapplied 


4<D  A    WINTER  EVENING'S   TALE. 

sympathy.  He  would,  he  said,  in  conclusion,  advise 
me  as  a  friend  to  look  out  for  myself  or  I  might 
never  see  California." 

Well,  all  these  nice  little  schemes  did  not  discour 
age  Frank  Graham,  or  prevent  his  appearing  at 
court  and  giving  in  his  testimony.  Neither  did  they 
prevent  these  injured  friends  from  being  sent  for 
six  months  to  Blackwell's  Island.  But  the  conclu 
sion  of  this  story  will  show  how  dearly  he  paid  for 
his  obstinacy,  and  explain  the  ugly  scar  upon  the 
top  of  his  head  which  increases  in  size  with  his  de 
clining  years.  It  will  picture  in  a  small  degree  the 
evils  which  exist  in  that  stratum  of  human  life,  and 
show  how  near  he  came  giving  up  his  life  to  sustain 
the  law  and  enforce  its  penalties. 

He  was  first  attracted  to  the  Arbor,  an  oyster 
saloon  on  the  Bowery,  by  the  rich  and  tempting 
viands  displayed  in  the  window  as  he  passed  it  one 
evening  on  his  way  to  the  famous  old  theatre  of 
that  name.  And  afterwards,  as  long  as  he  stayed 
in  the  city,  he  shared  his  patronage  with  Charlie 
Locksley,  as  he  was  familiarly  called  by  his  friends. 

Charles  Locksley  was  an  Englishman  by  birth," 
with  a  bright,  intelligent  face,  and  possessing  a  most 
amiable  disposition — perhaps  it  was  the  love  of 
home,  and  his  still  lingering  devotion  for  his  brave 
old  flag,  regardless  of  her  faults,  that  allured  him  to 
the  Arbor. 


THE  ARBOR,  THE  GEM  OF  THE  BOWERY.   41 

Charlie's  saloon  was  always  cozy  and  neat.  The 
mahogany  bar  shone  like  glass.  The  decanters  were 
tastefully  arranged.  The  stove,  standing  in  the  cen 
tre  of  the  room  and  resembling,  as  nearly  as  any 
stove  can  be  made  to  resemble,  an  open  fire-place, 
was  brightly  polished,  and  threw  a  warm,  cheerful 
heat  far  out  into  the  room.  But  one  seat  was  to  be 
seen,  a  common  kitchen  chair,  heavy  and  strongly 
put  together.  The  pictures  which  were  hanging  on 
different  parts  of  the  walls  were  genteel,  respectable, 
and  appropriate.  For  the  accommodation  of  guests, 
there  were  at  the  rear  of  the  room  four  double  stalls 
with  marble-topped  tables,  soft  cushioned  seats,  and 
silken  curtains  to  protect  the  visitor  from  the  public 
gaze.  There  was  a  peculiar  freshness  about  the 
saloon  ;  such  an  air  of  comfort,  so  much  peaceful 
calm  in  everything  one  saw  that  it  helped  him  much 
to  enjoy  the  fancy  roasts  for  which  Charlie  Locks- 
ley  had  become  favorably  known.  On  one  end  of 
the  counter,  in  a  handsome  walnut  case,  stood  a 
stuffed  English  setter  as  natural  as  life.  At  the 
other  end,  piled  up  half-way  to  the  ceiling,  were 
skillfully  arranged  pyramids  of  the  celebrated  Provi 
dence  River  oyster.  Standing  over  a  spirit  lamp 
was  a  large  copper  urn,  so  nicely  polished  that  one 
could  see  his  face  in  it.  It  was  curiously  shaped,  and 
the  steam  which  issued  from  the  top  kept  an  egg 
suspended  in  air.  A  beautifully  figured  waiter  cov- 


42  A    WINTER  EVENING'S   TALE. 

ered  with  a  clean  white  napkin,  on  which  rested 
twelve  heavy  cut  tumblers,  shining  in  the  gas-light 
like  so  many  diamonds,  was  another  feature  of  Char 
lie  Locksley's  saloon.  A  highly-colored  card  pinned 
to  the  frame  of  the  mirror,  and  printed  in  handsome 
style,  reminded  the  patrons  on  each  cold  winter 
night  of  their  mutual  friends  and  bosom  compan 
ions,  Tom  and  Jerry.  Last  but  not  least  was  the 
proprietor,  —  medium  height,  squarely  built,  short 
side  whiskers,  a  light  blue  eye,  frank  open  counte 
nance,  —  a  man  in  the  prime  of  life.  Such  was 
Charlie  Locksley. 

We  have  taken  some  little  pains  to  describe  the 
Arbor  and  its  proprietor,  because  the  comedy  which 
began  at  the  Howard  House  terminated  here,  and 
a  first-class  tragedy  was  set  up  in  its  place.  Here 
Charlie  Locksley  took  part  in  the  last  scene,  and 
here  the  curtain  fell  upon  Graham's  last  night  in 
the  metropolis  of  the  New  World. 

The  ship  which  had  been  fitting  so  long  was  at 
last  got  ready,  and  was  announced  positively  to  sail 
the  next  day.  Mr.  Graham  and  his  son  went  on 
board  in  the  forenoon,  took  formal  possession  of 
their  berth,  and  stowed  away  their  bedding,  books, 
and  papers.  They  had  taken  with  them  everything 
which  they  thought  would  ameliorate  their  condition 
and  lighten  the  tediousness  of  a  protracted  sea 
voyage.  Their  trunks  were  securely  lashed,  hampers 


THE  ARBOR,    THE   GEM   OF  THE  BOWERY.      43 

of  fruits,  pickles,  and  other  delicacies  were  carefully 
concealed,  and  a  large  demijohn  of  fresh  water,  which 
proved  invaluable  to  them  in  the  confusion  of  the 
first  few  days  at  sea,  was  safely  stowed  away. 

Mr.  Graham  remained  on  board  to  protect  their 
property,  and  Frank  returned  to  the  hotel  to  pay 
their  bills  and  take  leave  of  their  friends,  intending 
to  go  aboard  in  the  morning.  Yes,  it  was  his  last 
night  ashore,  the  eve  of  his  departure  to  that  land 
which  flowed  with  milk  and  honey.  He  would  go 
to  the  Bowery  Theatre  with  West  and  Allison,  take 
supper  with  them  at  Charlie  Locksley's,  and  then 
separate,  perhaps  forever.  Their  tickets  furnished 
them  seats  in  the  "  dress  circle."  As  they  entered 
the  theatre  the  curtain  rose  upon  the  first  scene  in 
"  Hamlet."  Soon  after,  young  Graham,  filled  with 
surprise,  rose  with  his  companions  to  admit  a  gen 
tleman  and  lady  to  the  vacant  seats  next  their  own. 
It  was  Mr.  Dixon.  Yes,  it  was  he,  and  no  one  else. 
Mr.  Dixon  saw  Graham,  but  he  neither  spoke  nor 
nodded.  At  the  end  of  the  first  act  Dixon  retired, 
and  his  seat  was  occupied  subsequently  by  a  gentle 
man  friend.  Graham  felt  uneasy  but  said  nothing. 
He  felt  sure  that  Dixon' s  absence  meant  trouble. 
When  they  reached  the  lobby,  at  the  conclusion 
of  the  play,  he  quietly  mentioned  his  fears  to  his 
friends.  Mr.  West  suggested  placing  Graham  be 
tween  himself  and  Allison,  to  prevent  any  assault 


44  A    WINTER  EVENINGS   TALE. 

being  made  while  descending  the  sombre  staircase. 
There  was  no  trouble,  however,  and  they  reached 
the  sidewalk  unmolested.  But  on  the  edge  of  the 
curbstone,  facing  the  entrance  to  the  theatre,  with 
the  lights  full  in  his  face,  stood  Dixon  surrounded 
by  several  companions.  He  did  not  move  from  his 
position  until  Graham  and  his  associates  had  passed 
some  distance  into  the  darkness.  Then  Dixon  and 
his  companions  followed. 

Frank  Graham  was  warmly  received  at  the  Arbor, 
and  after  introducing  his  friends  and  informing 
Locksley  that  this  was  his  last  night  ashore,  and 
that  he  should  sail  in  the  morning,  he  ordered  sup 
per  for  the  party,  and  they  took  seats  in  the  first 
vacant  stall.  Charlie  Locksley,  unusually  affable 
with  Graham  and  his  friends,  sat  talking  with  them 
until  some  gentlemen  came  in,  when  he  stepped 
quickly  behind  the  bar.  It  was  Dixon  and  his  fol 
lowers.  Mr.  West,  pulling  down  the  curtain  with  a 
jerk,  and  buttoning  up  his  coat  nervously,  said  in  a 
whisper,  — 

"Boys,  we  are  going  to  have  trouble  here,  and 
you  had  better  prepare  for  it.  It  is  you  they  are 
after,  Graham,"  he  added,  "  and  their  visit  here 
means  mischief  and  revenge." 

"  Be  persuaded,  Frank,  and  keep  out  of  their  way," 
feelingly  remarked  Allison. 

"Yes,  and  let  me  go  out  and  reconnoitre,"  hur 
riedly  suggested  West." 


THE  ARBOR,  THE  GEM  OF  THE  BOWERY.   45 

At  this  moment  there  came  through  the  curtain 
one  of  Locksley's  tumblers.  It  cut  its  way  through 
and  struck  the  gas  jet,  thus  putting  out  the  light. 
This  was  the  first  shot,  and  it  was  accepted,  as  it 
was  intended  by  the  assailants,  as  a  declaration  of 
war.  The  three  friends  sprang  to  their  feet ;  West, 
putting  up  the  curtain,  stepped  out.  Receiving  a 
kick  in  the  stomach,  he  went  down  upon  his  knees. 
In  the  frenzy  of  the  moment,  Allison,  seizing  a 
heavy  salt-cellar,  and  Graham,  a  mustard  cruet,  sal 
lied  out  together.  The  former  parried  a  blow  aimed 
at  his  face,  and  instantly  closed  with  his  man.  The 
latter  received  from  Dixon  a  hard  blow  in  the  neck, 
which  sent  him  whirling  up  to  the  end  of  the  bar. 
This  was  quickly  followed  by  another,  when  Locks- 
ley,  finding  he  could  no  longer  remain  neutral,  dealt 
Dixon  a  heavy  blow  upon  the  head  with  a  lemon- 
squeezer,  which  brought  the  blood  and  caused  him 
to  loose  his  hold  on  Graham.  But  he  instantly 
turned  upon  Locksley,  who  grappled  with  the  insti 
gator  of  this  broil,  and  the  contest  between  the 
two  men  continued  fierce  and  bloody  to  the  end. 
Graham  recovered  in  season  to  find  his  friend  West 
in  a  perilous  situation.  He  had  been  pushed  back 
wards  over  the  chair  and  lay  upon  his  back,  covered 
by  a  rough,  who  had  seized  him  by  the  throat,  and 
was  absolutely  trying  to  throttle  him  to  death.  Gra 
ham  sprang  forward,  and  seizing  the  chair,  brought 


46  A    WINTER  EVENINGS   TALE. 

it  down  upon  the  head  and  shoulders  of  the  would- 
be  murderer  with  such  force  as  to  send  him  bleed 
ing  upon  the  floor. 

The  contest  had  now  become  mixed  and  des 
perate.  Innocent  parties  were  drawn  in,  either  from 
sympathy  or  interest,  and  a  scene  of  the  wildest 
confusion  ensued.  The  police  were  called,  and  the 
rattles  of  those  guardians  of  the  public  peace  broke 
sharply  upon  the  midnight  air.  But  the  crash  of 
broken  windows  and  the  oaths  of  struggling  men 
were  now  drowned  by  cries  of  Fire !  The  stove  had 
been  overturned  in  the  melee,  the  light  drapery  at 
tached  to  the  stalls  had  been  set  on  fire  by  the  live 
coals,  and  the  Arbor,  the  Gem  of  the  Bowery,  was 
in  flames.  Charlie  Locksley's  presence  of  mind  not 
only  saved  his  saloon  from  destruction,  but  also  pre 
vented  Graham's  arrest,  and  the  unpleasant  conse 
quences  which  must  have  followed.  The  moment 
the  flames  burst  out  the  combatants,  becoming 
alarmed  for  their  safety,  fled.  Graham,  with  a  face 
ghastly  as  death,  and  a  voice  hoarse  from  emotion, 
cried  out  to  Locksley,  "  O  God,  Charlie  !  how  can 
we  be  saved  ! "  With  the  quickness  of  a  shuttle 
from  the  hand  of  the  weaver,  he  raised  the  trap 
door  from  where  he  had  stood,  and  whispering  into 
Frank's  ear,  "Follow  me,"  jumped  down  into  the 
darkness,  accompanied  by  his  friend.  There  was  a 
small,  glimmering  light  burning  at  the  gas  jet  in  the 


THE  ARBOR,    THE   GEM  OF  THE  BOWERY.     47 

rear  of  the  cellar.  Locksley  turned  on  the  gas,  and 
sprang  for  a  coil  of  hose  resting  upon  a  peg  in 
the  wall.  Taking  the  nozzle  in  one  hand  and  let 
ting  out  the  coil  with  the  other,  he  told  Graham 
to  let  on  the  water  and  stay  where  he  was.  The 
thoughts  which  passed  through  his  mind,  as  he 
stood  alone  in  the  basement  of  Locksley's  saloon, 
furnished  food  for  a  score  of  stories  to  his  friends  in 
after  years.  A  severe  cut  on  the  top  of  his  head, 
his  body  bruised  and  sore,  his  clothes  torn  in  shreds 
and  spattered  with  blood ;  fire  above  him,  and  pos 
sibly  death,  —  should  he  escape  these  he  would  most 
likely  be  arrested,  committed  for  examination,  and 
held,  possibly,  as  a  witness  against  these  men.  His 
ship  would  in  the  mean  time  sail  without  him,  he 
would  be  left  helpless  and  aimless,  and  his  gray- 
haired  father  deeply  troubled.  But  these  calam 
ities  were  avoided,  and  Graham's  hopes  revived 
when  Locksley,  coming  down,  assured  him  that  all 
was  quiet,  the  saloon  was  closed,  and  they  would 
spend  the  balance  of  the  night  together.  The  light 
was  turned  down,  and  Frank  followed  Locksley  up 
into  the  saloon.  The  scene  which  met  his  eyes  was 
beyond  his  worst  fears,  the  desolation  shocking  to 
behold,  and  seating  himself  in  the  only  remaining 
stall,  he  raised  his  eyes  to  the  face  of  his  bruised 
and  battered  friend,  and  burst  into  tears. 


CHAPTER  V. 

ROUNDING   CAPE   HORN. 

"  Adieu,  adieu,  my  native  shore 
Fades  o'er  the  waters  blue, 
The  night  winds  sigh,  the  breakers  roar, 
And  shrieks  the  wild  sea  mew. 
Yon  sun  that  sets  upon  the  sea, 
We  follow  in  his  flight, 
Farewell  awhile  to  him  and  thee, 
My  native  land  —  Good-night." 

BYRON. 

ON  the  twenty-fifth  of  December,  1848,  the  ship 
Orpheus  left  her  moorings,  and  sailed  for  San  Fran 
cisco,  California.  A  large  proportion  of  her  passen 
gers  were  residents  of  New  York  city  and  its  sur 
roundings.  Small  steamers  and  pleasure  boats  filled 
with  anxious  friends  followed  the  vessel  as  she 
moved  slowly  out  into  the  bay.  The  wharves,  too, 
were  covered  with  people  who  were  there  to  bid  the 
adventurous  voyagers  good-by.  The  excitement  was 
intense,  and  the  air  was  filled  with  wild  huzzas  ;  hats 
went  up  into  the  air,  handkerchiefs  waved,  and  as 
cheer  upon  cheer  reverberated  from  ship  to  shore, 
that  beautiful  vessel,  as  well  as  many  of  the  daring 
spirits  on  her  decks,  left  the  harbor  never  to  return. 

She  stood  out  under  a  dull  leaden  sky,  and  a  light 
snow-storm,  leaving  Sandy  Hook  and  the  low  New 


ROUNDING   CAPE  HORN.  49 

Jersey  shores  upon  her  lee.  The  decks  were  cleared, 
the  watches  set,  the  messes  formed,  the  sails  un 
furled,  and  under  a  heavy  press  of  canvas  she  sailed 
swiftly  out  into  the  broad  Atlantic.  Confusion  sub 
sided,  order  was  restored,  and,  the  people  fraterniz 
ing,  the  ship's  discipline  was  submitted  to  with 
peaceful  resignation.  The  excitement  attending 
the  separation  was  over,  their  homes  and  friends 
could  be  seen  no  more,  and  the  ship,  a  mere  speck 
upon  the  horizon,  freighted  with  human  hopes  and 
fears,  glided  upon  her  course,  bearing  with  her  many 
aching  hearts,  and  minds  filled  with  fantastic  dreams. 
Two  hundred  and  fifty  young,  ardent,  and  advent 
urous  men,  buoyant  with  reckless  imagination,  con 
fined  in  such  narrow  limits  for  upwards  of  six 
months  must,  indeed,  be  saints  to  live  together,  re 
stricted  to  navy  rations  of  inferior  quality,  doled  out 
with  sparing  hand,  and  bordering  upon  starvation, 
without  dissensions  and  sometimes  open  conflict. 
It  would,  indeed,  be  wonderful,  surrounded  by  varied 
difficulties,  and  sometimes  by  the  insufferable  priva 
tions  which  always  accompany  those  who  go  down 
into  the  sea  in  ships  if  the  heterogenous  mass  of 
humanity  on  board  the  Orpheus  should  not  yield  to 
the  pressure  of  personal  grievances  occasionally,  and 
resort  to  a  mutual  trial  of  muscular  strength,  pre 
ceded  by  a  little  pugilistic  science.  Such  encoun 
ters  are  not  without  their  justifying  merits,  and  when 

4 


5O  A    WINTER  EVENINGS   TALE. 

used  with  moderation  do  good,  and  are  commendable. 
They  are  not  only  exhilarating  but  purifying. 

A  voyage  around  Cape  Horn,  under  the  most  fa 
vorable  circumstances,  tries  a  man's  patience  and 
endurance.  But  when  made  with  a  large  body  of 
men,  removed  from  all  social  influences,  and  sur 
rounded  by  corrupting  scenes,  the  adventure  is 
much  harder  to  be  borne.  One  after  another  the 
masks  began  to  fall.  Slumbering  jealousies  awoke, 
angry  discussions  turned  to  blows,  and  violence  and 
bloodshed  were  frequent  occurrences  till  they  had 
"rounded  the  Horn."  Head  winds,  heavy  seas,  six 
hours'  daylight,  food  badly  cooked,  and  more  mis 
erably  served,  officers  cross  and  indifferent,  cook 
drunken  and  ugly,  sailors  insolent  and  brutal,  squeal 
ing  pigs,  filthy  hen-coops,  decks  swashed  with  wa 
ter,  berths  damp  and  musty, — these  were  among 
the  trials  of  the  voyage ;  but  if  anything  was  needed 
to  complete  the  list  of  unbearables,  the  "captain 
lost  his  reckoning,  the  ship  was  without  bearings 
under  close-reefed  topsails,  laboring  against  both  a 
head  wind  and  sea,  and  drifting  surely  upon  the  lee 
shore,  the  cook  was  under  arrest,  and  all  hands  had 
to  turn  in  without  supper." 

Songs  and  boisterous  laughing  following  are  heard 
between  decks,  and  the  fumes  of  liquor  and  tobacco 
commingle.  Suddenly  angry  words  take  the  place 
of  songs,  and  oaths  and  violence  fall  like  a  wet 


ROUNDING   CAPE  HORN.  51 

blanket  upon  the  gathering  mirth.  Jim  Ferris,  the 
Williamsburg  "pet,"  a  large,  powerfully  built  man, 
a  little  too  groggy  for  his  own  safety,  stripped  to 
the  waist,  and  spoiling  for  a  fight,  determined  to 
clean  out  mess  number  seven  for  a  fancied  insult. 
Having  worked  himself  into  a  furious  passion,  he 
jumped  out  of  his  berth,  and  started  down  to  mid 
ships  under  the  glimmering  lights  of  the  steerage 
lanterns,  resolved  to  annihilate  that  body  of  men  or 
die  in  the  attempt.  He  was  met  by  Judson,  a  young 
minister  of  the  gospel,  who  considered  this  a  splen 
did  opportunity  to  test  his  persuasive  eloquence  as 
a  messenger  of  peace.  Being  received  upon  the 
point  of  Jim's  massive  fist,  he  went  down  to  leeward 
with  the  speed  of  an  arrow,  and  was  seen  no  more. 
With  the  leap  of  a  tiger,  Judson's  chum  and  mess 
mate  sprang  upon  Ferris,  and  with  the  heel  of  a 
heavy  sea-boqt  dealt  him  a  blow  upon  the  head  that 
knocked  the  bully  upon  his  knees.  But  Judson's 
chum  followed  his  friend  under  difficulties  of  no  or 
dinary  character,  for  a  huge  tin-kettle  half  full  of 
water  flew  after  him,  and  striking  him  squarely  in 
the  back  of  the  head,  he  whirled  round  with  fright 
ful  gasps  and  dropped  heavily  upon  the  deck.  Forty 
angry  men  now  rushed  to  the  assistance  of  their 
friends  on  either  side,  a  rough  and  disgraceful  fight 
ensued,  which  furnished  a  scene  for  the  voyagers 
unequaled  for  brilliancy  and  endurance  while  they 


52  A    W'NTEK   EVENINGS    TALE. 

remained  together.  It  was  terminated,  fortunately 
for  all  concerned,  by  a  heavy  sea,  which  dashed 
squarely  over  the  weather  bow,  and  then  plunging 
down  the  fore-hatch,  rushed  swiftly  to  midships,  put 
ting  out  the  forward  lights,  and  leaving  the  com 
batants  in  darkness,  and  up  to  their  knees  in  water. 

These  little  side-scenes  were  occasionally  brought 
•out,  only  modified  in  picturesqueness,  and  tempered 
with  less  serious  results.  They  seemed,  however,  to 
have  a  beneficial  effect,  just  as  a  rain-storm  has  upon 
the  hot  and  dusty  earth  in  midsummer,  cooling  the 
ground,  purifying  the  air,  and  leaving  the  foliage 
and  flowers  fresh  and  sparkling.  Then  came  the 
punishment.  The  cook,  refusing  to  do  duty,  was 
put  in  irons  and  taken  aft  to  the  captain  for  trial. 
The  "  discipline  of  the  ship  must  be  enforced,  and 
the  authority  of  its  officers  made  supreme."  The 
opportunity  to  apologize  was  given  him,  the  ac 
ceptance  of  which  would  have  permitted  him  to 
return  to  duty,  but  he  declined,  and  his  friends  be 
coming  provoked  at  his  obstinacy,  he  was  sentenced 
to  be  flogged.  The  sickening  details  of  this  scene 
were  faithfully  carried  out.  The  stubborn  cook  was 
stripped  to  the  waist,  his  hands  were  lashed  to  the 
rigging,  and  he  received  fifty  lashes  upon  his  bare 
back.  This  was  one  of  the  most  painful  scenes 
witnessed  during  the  voyage. 

The  next  difficulty  of  any  importance  was  the  in- 


ROUNDING   CAPE  HORN.  53 

dignation  meeting  and  its  unpleasant  consequences. 
Its  cause  was  the  unwholesome  supplies  issued  to 
the  messes,  which  were  at  times  so  bad  that  they 
could  not  be  used.  Secret  mutterings  rose  to  open 
threats  and  denunciations.  Small  groups  of  disaf 
fected  men  swelled  into  a  large  body,  thus  opening 
the  door  for  turbulent  spirits  to  make  themselves 
conspicuous  and  inflame  still  more  the  minds  of 
those  excited.  A  grand  meeting  was  called,  officers 
chosen,  and  strong  resolutions  covering  the  sense  of 
the  meeting  adopted.  Inflammatory  speeches  were 
made,  denouncing  the  owners  and  holding  the  offi 
cers  responsible  for  the  impurity  of  the  water  and 
the  condition  of  their  supplies.  It  was  voted  to 
visit  the  captain  in  a  body  the  next  day,  and  demand 
better  water,  better  pork,  and  better  bread,  or  the 
ship  to  be  headed  for  the  nearest  port.  Accordingly 
at  the  appointed  time  about  one  hundred  malcon 
tents  gathered,  and  with  their  president  at  their 
head  marched  in  solemn  order  to  the  quarter-deck. 
Mr.  Bottomly,  from  Yonkers,  a  defunct  politician 
with  some  knowledge  of  law  and  less  of  good  sense, 
assumed  the  responsibilities  of  the  hour,  and  being 
handed  up  to  a  temporary  stand  in  the  quarter  boat, 
faced  the  captain  and  his  first  officer  and  addressed 
him  as  follows  :  — 

"  Captain  Freeman  :  There  are  times  in  the  life 
of  men  which,  when  taken  at  the  flood,  lead  to  for- 


54  A    WINTER  EVENING'S   TALE. 

tune.  The  time  of  your  life  has  come  when  you 
must  either  furnish  us  better  grub,  or  go  down  into 
the  sea  and  stay  there.  (Applause.)  Desperate  dis 
eases  require  desperate  remedies.  The  disease 
which  has  stricken  this  ship's  company  is  slimy 
water,  rotten  bread,  and  offensive  meat.  The  rem 
edy  for  you  to  apply  is  better  food  and  more  of  it. 
(Great  applause.)  No  man  on  this  ship  has  a  pro- 
founder  regard  for  the  venerable  navigator  Noah,  or 
concede  to  him  higher  praise  for  the  abilities  he 
displayed  during  the  forty  days  of  the  flood,  than  I. 
I  only  regret  his  voyage  was  not  sufficiently  pro 
longed  to  prevent  our  being  obliged  to  eat  his  leav 
ings.  (Prolonged  applause.)  I  hold  in  my  hand  a 
petition  and  set  of  resolutions,  condemning  both 
owners  and  officers  of  this  ship  for  the  deception 
and  fraud  practiced  upon  their  passengers.  Allow 
me  in  behalf  of  these  injured  people  to  present  you 
with  them.  (Refuses.)  Very  good,  sir.  The  senti 
ments  which  they  contain  are  embodied  in  the  fol 
lowing  brief  sentences.  We  are  here  on  business, 
and,  sir,  we  mean  business.  If  you  have  better  food 
on  board  of  this  ship,  we  must  have  it.  If  not  we 
demand  you  to  put  this  ship  into  the  nearest  port. 
Should  you  refuse  that,  we  shall  take  this  ship  from 
you  and  put  her  in  there  ourselves.  You  can  have 
till  to-morrow  morning  to  decide." 

Captain  Freeman  paid  respectful  attention  to  the 


ROUNDING   CAPE  HORN.  55 

orator,  his  deep  gray  eyes  resting  fully  upon  him. 
Upon  being  addressed  by  the  leader  of  the  crowd, 
he  scarcely  moved  from  where  he  stood  or  showed 
the  least  fear  or  anger.  Nevertheless,  there  was  an 
occasional  twitching  of  the  muscles  of  the  face,  and 
perhaps  a  little  nervousness  in  the  arms  as  he  thrust 
his  hands  deeper  into  the  pockets  of  his  pea-jacket. 
He  was  a  small  man,  not  over  five  feet  four,  and 
slim  and  active  as  a  school-boy.  The  face,  being 
the  index  of  the  man,  although  deeply  bronzed  and 
disfigured  by  storms  and  exposure,  possessed  a 
marked  degree  of  intelligence.  No  sooner  was  Mr. 
Bottomly  handed  down,  than  the  captain  sprang  into 
his  place.  Stooping  over  to  leeward  he  spat  upon 
the  deck,  and  then  tossing  into  the  sea  a  quid  of 
tobacco  of  astonishing  proportions,  spoke  to  his 
audience  in  these  words  :  — 

"  Passengers :  When  this  ship  was  provisioned  and 
fitted  for  this  voyage,  I  was  on  Cape  Cod,  Massa 
chusetts, 'with  my  family.  Therefore  I  am  no  more 
responsible  for  the  condition  of  your  food  and  water 
than  you  are.  The  owners  employed  me  to  take 
this  ship  to  San  Francisco,  and  I  mean  to  do  it. 
This  ship  is  insured  with  certain  conditions,  and 
these  conditions  permit  us  to  enter  but  two  ports, 
Valparaiso  and  our  port  of  destination.  With  ordi 
nary  luck  we  shall  reach  the  former  in  twenty  days, 
and  that  is  the  only  port  this  ship  will  enter  while  I 


56  A    WINTER  EVENING'S   TALT.. 

am  her  master.  This  is  all  the  time  I  require  and 
this  is  my  answer." 

And  springing  back  upon  the  deck  he  went  down 
into  his  cabin. 

This  brief  and  laconic  reply  of  Captain  Freeman 
narrowed  the  issue  and  brought  the  belligerents  to 
a  halt.  Indeed,  he  had  taken  a  perilous  stand,  for 
although  a  majority  of  the  ship's  company  were  op 
posed  to  open  violence  and  mutiny,  it  must  be  ad 
mitted  they  were  in  favor  of  the  spirit  and  honest 
purposes  of  the  meeting ;  but  while  sustaining  the 
efforts  of  the  petitioners  they  regretted  the  ill-chosen 
words  of  their  president.  A  formal  demand  had 
been  made  upon  the  owners'  representative  for  bet 
ter  food,  which  he  had  virtually  admitted  was  be 
yond  his  power  to  produce.  He  had  been  told  in 
that  case  to  put  his  ship  into  the  nearest  port  and 
he  had  peremptorily  refused.  They  had  threatened 
to  take  his  ship  from  him  should  he  fail  to  comply, 
and  he  had  assured  them  that  this  they  could  only 
do  by  first  depriving  him  of  his  life.  Thus  matters 
stood.  There  seemed  no  middle  ground.  The  Rubi 
con  in  this  case  was  indeed  narrow.  Would  Caesar 
cross.  Let  us  see.  A  captain  on  board  his  ship 
upon  the  high  seas,  is  invested  by  law  with  a  degree 
of  power  which  makes  him  literally  the  monarch  of 
all  he  surveys.  His  authority  cannot  be  disputed, 
and  he  holds  the  destinies  of  both  ship  and  crew,  as 


ROUNDING   CAPE  HORN.  57 

it  were,  in  the  hollow  of  his  hand.  His  owners  in 
trust  him  with  the  ship  and  cargo,  and  the  nation 
under  whose  flag  he  sails  confides  to  his  care  the 
lives  of  those  who  accompany  him.  He  sails  out 
upon  the  great  deep  with  his  line  of  duties  clearly 
defined,  and  the  responsibilities  of  his  situation  en 
graven  upon  his  heart.  The  laws  giving  him  this 
great  power  were  created  for  his  use  and  guidance, 
and  he  is  sustained  in  their  lawful  enforcement.  In 
moments  of  supreme  danger  when  great  perils  arise 
he  neither  falters  nor  shirks  his  duty,  but  either 
survives  with  an  unblemished  name  or  goes  down 
with  his  ship,  loyal  to  his  duty  and  trust. 

Supported,  then,  by  the  laws  of  his  country,  con 
scious  of  his  rights  and  the  dignity  of  his  station, 
Captain  Freeman  was  determined  to  give  up  his  life, 
rather  than  yield  to  a  fractious  mob  which  would 
compromise  the  one  and  humiliate  the  other.  The 
moment,  therefore,  that  he  returned  to  his  cabin, 
the  men  gathered  in  groups  and  discussed  in  anger 
the  unsuccessful  results  of  their  interview.  Some 
were  cool,  but  perplexed,  others  excited  and  furious 
at  what  they  considered  a  flat  refusal  to  mitigate 
their  wrongs.  At  this  juncture  the  colored  steward, 
carrying  in  his  hands  a  tray  covered  with  meats, 
was  edging  his  way  through  the  crowds  of  hungry 
men  to  the  captain's  table,  when  his  tray  was  seized 
and  the  contents  instantly  vanished.  Quick  as  a 


58  A    WINTER   EVENING'S   TALE. 

flash  of  lightning,  the  steward  felled  one  of  the  men 
to  the  deck,  hurled  another  into  the  lee  scuppers, 
and  rushed  into  the  cabin  followed  by  a  wild  and 
infuriated  mob,  crying  for  vengeance  and  better 
food. 

The  scene  which  presented  itself  that  day  was 
worthy  of  an  artist's  pencil,  and  can  better  be  imag 
ined  than  described.  The  captain  stood  at  the  head 
of  his  table,  with  his  officers  and  a  dozen  cabin  pas 
sengers  standing  about  him  defenseless,  speechless 
with  fear,  and  astonishment  depicted  upon  their 
faces.  The  cabin  had  by  this  time  become  filled 
with  these  disorderly  men,  shouting  at  the  top  of 
their  voices  for  better  food  and  more  of  it.  As  soon 
as  the  noise  had  subsided,  the  captain  said,  — 

"  Gentlemen,  you  are  trespassing  here,  and  I  pro 
test  against  your  remaining  any  longer  ! " 

"Well,  suppose  we  object,"  said  one  of  the  lead 
ers,  as  he  edged  himself  to  the  front,  "  what  then  ?  " 

"  Why,  sir,  I  shall  order  you  out  ;  and  every  man 
that  refuses  to  go  shall  be  arrested  on  our  arrival 
at  Valparaiso  and  sent  home  in  irons.  I  command 
you  to  leave  this  cabin  immediately.  I  shall  listen 
to  no  petition  accompanied  by  threats.  One  hour 
hence  meet  me  upon  the  quarter-deck,  with  one  or 
the  other,  and  I  will  answer  you  according  to  its 
merits." 

Did  they  go  ?     Yes,  they  did  !     They  knew  that 


ROUNDING   CAPE  HORN.  59 

the  captain  was  right,  and  they  felt  that  they  were 
in  the  wrong  ;  and  the  reconciliation  which  took 
place  between  them  the  next  day  was  indeed  grate 
ful  and  most  sincere.  It  was  better  that  they  should 
submit  to  the  evils  they  knew,  than  fly  unto  others 
they  knew  not  of. 

But  happier  days  and  pleasanter  nights  were  to 
dawn  upon  them  shortly,  and  the  painful  annoyances 
and  disgusting  scenes  were  to  be  forgotten  and  seen 
no  more.  Twenty-one  days  and  nights  were  passed 
in  the  "valley  of  the  shadow  of  death,"  and  they 
came  out  stamped  with  the  imprint  of  some  of  the 
evils  which  ever  follow  seclusion,  laziness,  and  filth. 
Having  rounded  the  cape,  clearer  skies  and  warmer 
winds  were  observed  and  felt.  The  island  of  Juan 
Fernandez,  the  home  of  Robinson  Crusoe,  came 
into  view,  and  Mt.  Chimborazo,  the  great  landmark 
of  the  southern  continent,  assured  them  of  their 
near  approach  to  the  coast  of  Chili.  Fair  winds, 
charming  weather,  and  anticipations  quickened  by 
the  sight  of  land,  soon  put  matters  to  rights,  and 
everybody,  from  the  forecastle  to  the  quarter-deck, 
was  happy. 

One  possesses  an  indescribable  feeling  in  going 
ashore  in  a  foreign  country,  or  mingling  among  peo 
ple  of  similar  color  and  language.  But  the  interest 
which  accompanies  him,  as  he  moves  among  people 
dissimilar  every  way,  not  only  differing  in  habits 


60  A    WINTER  EVENING'S   TALE. 

and  style  of  living,  but  in  their  country  and  prod- 
ucts,  cannot  very  well  be  described. 

About  the  middle  of  April  the  Orpheus  anchored 
at  Valparaiso,  the  chief  commercial  port  of  the  Re 
public  of  Chili.  The  going  on  shore,  and  the  op 
portunities  which  now  offered  themselves  for  mut 
ual  interchange  of  views,  besides  the  privileges  so 
long  forbidden  and  now  so  plenteous,  were  shared 
and  enjoyed  alike  by  all,  and  long  after  they  had 
resumed  their  journey  the  soothing  influences  of 
ten  days  and  nights  in  that  romantic  old  city  were 
clearly  felt  and  appreciated.  The  messes  were  re 
formed,  hidden  delicacies  brought  out,  and  absent 
members  again  seen  enjoying  their  "duff"  and  New 
Orleans  "  syrup  "  at  their  accustomed  places  forward 
of  the  mainmast. 

At  the  entrance  to  San  Francisco  Bay  there  is  a 
headland  stretching  far  out  into  the  sea,  which, 
when  seen  at  a  distance,  looks  like  a  finger  upon  a 
man's  hand.  It  can  be  seen  for  many  miles  from  a 
vessel's  deck  as  she  approaches  the  Golden  Gate 
from  the  southward  and  westward.  This  headland 
is  a  guide-post,  saying  to  the  weary  mariner,  "  To 
San  Francisco."  As  they  neared  the  land  of  prom 
ise,  every  eye  was  strained  to  catch  a  glimpse  of  it. 
A  strong  northwest  wind  blew,  driving  the  sea  high 
upon  the  beach.  The  sea  birds  swooped  down  and 
skimmed  the  crests  of  the  waves  as  the  guide-post, 


ROUNDING   CAPE  HORN.  6 1 

now  seen,  became  more  and  more  distinct.  The 
captain,  with  his  chart  nailed  to  a  board,  stood  by 
the  capstan,  nervous  and  anxious,  as  sail  after  sail 
burst  or  tore  from  its  earing  and  rilled  the  air  with 
its  fragments.  It  was  an  hour  of  deep  interest,  and 
no  one  on  that  ship  watched  the  scene  with  more 
earnestness  than  Frank  Graham,  as  he  clung  to  the 
ratlines,  the  spray  dashing  into  his  face,  and  the 
wind  tossing  his  long  hair  behind  him.  Yes,  the 
supreme  moment  of  their  danger  had  arrived  and 
passed.  They  had  entered  the  Golden  Gate  ;  the 
Eldorado  of  the  world  was  in  view  ;  their  doubts 
and  fears  were  over  ;  and  amid  the  shouts  of  joy 
and  welcome,  the  good  ship  Orpheus  dropped  anchor 
between  her  rivals,  the  Greyhound  and  Architect, 
July  8,  1849. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

THE  START  FROM  SUTTER?S  FORT. 

Like  an  isle  in  the  sea  the  fortress  stood, 
Surrounded  by  waves  of  fertile  lands, 
A  refuge  and  guide  to  adventurous  sons, 
That  come  to  inherit  its  golden  strands- 

But  between  its  walls 

So  grim  and  wan, 

Death  and  eternity 

Stalked  hand  in  hand. 

The  ravens  croaked  in  the  belfry  tower, 
As  counted  the  bellstroke  one,  two,  three, 
And  the  prowling  wolf  his  vigil  kept, 
As  night  birds  flew  from  tree  to  tree. 

But  they  dug  his  grave 

Both  narrow  and  deep, 

And  laid  him  down 

To  eternal  sleep. 

THE  AUTHOR. 

LOOKED  at  from  the  deck  of  a  ship  anchored  in 
the  bay,  July,  1849,  San  Francisco  presented  a  most 
singular  appearance,  and  to  the  famishing  pioneers 
offered  but  a  cold  and  inhospitable  welcome.  The 
settlement  looked  like  a  great  heap  of  driftwood 
blown  in  with  the  surf  and  left  in  one  heterogeneous 
mass  by  the  receding  tide.  The  long,  rolling  sand 
hills,  dotted  here  and  there  with  scrub  oaks  and 
blighted  pines,  the  broad,  circling  beach,  sloping 
from  the  precipitous  headlands,  the  sea  birds  swoop- 


THE  START  FROM  S 'UTTER 'S  FORT.  63 

ing  down  from  their  dizzy  heights  and  screaming 
over  the  sombre  bay,  exhibited  a  picture  too  deso 
late  for  description. 

On  going  ashore,  however,  the  party  found  the 
town  less  displeasing  in  appearance.  The  few  but 
quaint  old  buildings  were  illy  prepared  to  provide 
for  the  motley  crowd  daily  increasing  in  numbers, 
so  tents  were  pitched  and  huts  erected  according 
to  the  whim  of  the  occupants,  regardless  of  beauty 
or  usefulness.  The  curling  smoke  went  up  from 
these  tiny  homes,  cooking  utensils  were  brought 
for  the  first  time  into  use,  and  "  slap-jacks  "  and 
pork  sandwiches  were  eaten  from  pewter  plates 
without  a  murmur.  But  these  were  only  temporary 
homes,  hastily  constructed  shelters  soon  to  disap 
pear,  as  their  adventurous  inmates  settled  in  the 
distant  mines. 

It  will  be  necessary  to  treat  briefly  the  events  of 
five  years.  Incidents  must  supersede  details,  and 
current  events  covering  these  weary  years  brought 
within  the  scope  of  an  evening's  reading,  or  the  pur 
pose  of  the  author  will  be  defeated. 

The  party  to  which  the  Grahams  belonged  con 
sisted  of  seven  strong,  able-bodied  men.  The  reader 
will  please  follow  these  pathfinders  through  their 
unsuspected  hardships  and  see  what  befalls  them. 
You  are  asked  to  bid  good-by  to  San  Francisco,  to 
shipmates  and  friends,  to  cast  your  eyes  far  out  over 


64  A    WINTER  EVENING'S    TALE. 

the  water,  and  wave  your  hat  high  in  the  air  as  the 
little  schooner  bearing  these  hardy  spirits  stands 
out  over  the  bay  and  lays  her  course  for  the  Sacra 
mento  River.  You  are  expected  to  remember  the 
mortgaged  home  and  the  anxious  hearts  it  shelters, 
but  you  are  earnestly  asked  never  for  a  moment  to 
forget  that  troubled  soul  at  Rugby  Farm. 

Sutter's  Fort,  the  residence  of  Captain  Sutter,  the 
prince  of  pioneers  and  discoverer  of  gold  in  Califor 
nia,  stood  out  in  the  open  plains,  about  midway  be 
tween  the  Coast  Range  and  the  Sierra  Nevadas. 
It  was  flanked  by  the  American  River  which  emp 
ties  into  the  Sacramento  a  short  league  to  the  west 
ward.  The  triangle  which  these  two  rivers  .form  is 
the  head  of  navigation  and  the  site  of  Sacramento 
City. 

Sutter's  Fort  was  the  outpost  of  civilization  and 
the  grand  rendezvous  of  the  early  pioneers  en  roiite 
to  the  mines.  No  company  of  gold-seekers  on  their 
way  to  the  "  diggings  "  passed  this  famous  old  settler 
without  calling  on  him,  either  for  supplies  or  for 
information.  It  is  here  we  overtake  the  Graham 
party,  who,  having  completed  their  arrangements, 
are  to  take  their  departure  for  the  North  Fork  of 
the  American  River.  It  is  here,  also,  that  Mr. 
Graham  decided  to  separate  from  the  company  and 
return  to  Sacramento.  It  was  a  precautionary 
measure  on  the  part  of  Mr.  Graham,  and  was 


THE  START  FROM  SUTTEFS  FORT.  65 

planned  against  any  misfortune  which  might  over 
take  his  son.  The  subject  was  carefully  considered, 
and  it  was  mutually  understood  that  whichever  suc 
ceeded  best  the  other  should  follow. 

The  view  from  the  walls  of  Slitter's  Fort  pre 
sented  a  landscape  both  beautiful  and  refreshing. 
The  eye  rested  upon  one  vast  level  plain  enlivened 
by  belts  of  timber  designating  the  courses  of  the 
rivers  as  they  rolled  along  from  the  Sierras  to  the 
sea.  Herds  of  wild  cattle  were  grazing  along  the 
river  bottoms,  and  horses  as  wild  as  the  wind  lay 
in  the  shade  of  the  mighty  oaks  that  dotted  the  lux 
uriant  valley.  The  Coast  Range  formed  a  high 
black  wall  upon  the  western  horizon,  and  following 
along,  hid  themselves  in  the  distance.  The  Sierra. 
Nevadas,  covered  with  everlasting  snow,  so  far 
away,  and  yet  so  near  that  the  beholder  felt  their 
cool,  invigorating  breath,  gleamed  in  the  sunlight 
like  immense  pillows  of  gold,  as  they  stretched  their 
lofty  summits  far  up  into  the  northern  sky.  The 
American  River,  cool  and  sparkling,  fresh  from  its 
mountain  source,  rolled  along  silently  and  added  its 
volume  and  strength  to  the  drowsy  Sacramento. 
The  sky  was  clear  ;  not  a  cloud  to  be  seen.  Not  a 
habitation  was  visible,  not  a  human  being  in  sight, 
except  an  occasional  vaquero  with  jingling  spurs 
and  wide  sombrero  as  he  went  plunging  over  the 
prairie  in  search  of  his  herd. 
5 


66  A    WINTER  EVENING'S   TALE. 

As  the  party  were  about  to  descend  from  the 
walls  of  the  fort,  Captain  Sutter  turned  and  point 
ing  his  finger  in  the  direction  of  the  Sierras  said, 
"  Follow  that  trail,  and  ford  the  river  below  the 
bend  ;  it  is  broadest  there  and  the  water  is  shallow. 
Then  bear  to  the  left  for  an  hour  and  start  for  the 
bald  headed  mountain  yonder.  Keep  it  constantly 
before  you,  and  if  you  are  not  devoured  by  the 
wolves,  you  should  reach  the  end  of  your  journey 
on  the  eve  of  the  second  day."  The  party  then 
took  leave  of  Captain  Sutter  and  Mr.  Graham,  the 
latter  remaining  behind  to  establish  a  business 
house  in  the  prospective  city  of  Sacramento.  The 
leave-taking  between  Mr.  Graham  and  his  son  was 
both  manly  and  affectionate.  They  grasped  each 
other  by  the  hand,  and  for  a  moment  looked  each 
other  in  the  eye,  then,  with  one  short  embrace,  the 
lips  met,  and  they  separated  forever. 

The  party  experienced  considerable  difficulty  in 
fording  the  river,  and  at  one  time  it  was  believed 
the  attempt  must  be  abandoned  and  the  company 
return  to  the  fort. 

The  mule  is  the  prince  of  animals  in  stupidity 
and  self-conceit.  You  may  invest  your  last  dollar 
in  him.  You  may  put  him  in  training  under  the 
most  ingenious  artist,  and  when  you  have  done  he 
is  only  a  mule.  You  may  talk  to  him  upon  the  im 
portance  of  joining  some  secret  society.  You  may 


THE   START  FROM  SUTTEES  FORT.  6/ 

display  to  him  the  social  magnificence  of  a  minis 
terial  calling.  You  may  fill  him  full  of  metaphysics 
and  the  infallibility  of  man,  and  yet  you  have  ac 
complished  nothing.  He  knows  all.  He  is  a  pe 
culiar  animal,  and  entertains  an  exalted  opinion  of 
his  own  superiority.  He  holds  in  contempt  any 
suggestions,  and  frequently  takes  exception  to  the 
most  forcible  if  not  elegant  expressions  known  to 
the  English  language.  At  times  he  will  stand  and 
listen  with  the  most  dignified  calmness.  At  others 
his  ears  will  indicate  his  line  of  thought,  and  his 
heels  proclaim  a*  declaration  of  war.  As  to  his  vir 
tues,  if  he  has  any,  make  whatever  allowance  you 
choose,  —  cover  the  rough  edges  of  his  character  as 
becomes  a  Christian's  duty,  —  but  don't  deny  that 
he  is  a  stupendous  fraud  and  a  fool. 

It  was  the  rebellious  spirit  of  these  long-eared 
gentlemen,  and  the  time  occupied  in  effecting  a  com 
promise,  that  delayed  the  party  in  fording  the  river. 
The  stream  once  crossed,  however,  and  the  mules 
repacked,  the  party  moved  rapidly  forward,  and  went 
into  camp  upon  reaching  the  first  spring  of  water. 
The  animals  were  carefully  picketed  out  to  browse, 
the  evening  meal  disposed  of,  the  blankets  spread, 
the  pipes  lighted,  and  the  company  were  summa 
rizing  the  events  of  the  day.  The  sun  had  just  dis 
appeared  behind  the  Coast. Range  and  the  calm  of 
the  evening  had  scarcely  set  in,  when  there  was 


68  A    WINTER  EVENING'S   TALE. 

heard  from  over  the  prairie  a  quick,  sharp  bark,  fol 
lowed  by  a  prolonged  and  indescribable  howl.  This 
was  answered  in  a  similar  manner  from  another 
direction,  as  if  it  were  a  signal  for  a  forward  move 
ment,  for  instantly  there  came  through  the  gathering 
darkness  a  simultaneous  howling  along  the  whole 
line,  which  increased  in  volume  as  the  invaders 
neared  the  camp.  Each  man  grasped  his  rifle  and 
sprang  to  his  feet.  The  scene  which  presented  it 
self  was  both  novel  and  interesting.  They  were 
literally  surrounded  by  prairie  wolves.  The  first 
thing  of  importance  was  to  secure  the  animals  and 
protect  themselves.  The  camp  was  moved  back 
upon  the  edge  of  the  spring,  and  breastworks  were 
hastily  constructed  of  pack-saddles,  sacks  of  flour, 
sides  of  bacon,  and  camp  utensils.  The  line  of  de 
fense  was  a  sort  of  half  circle  resting  upon  the  edge 
of  the  spring.  In  the  centre  of  this  little  retreat  the 
boys  stood  and  poured  volley  after  volley  into  these 
"pesky  varmints."  This  treatment  had  the  desired 
effect,  for  those  of  their  assailants  that  were  able  to 
do  so  gradually  fell  back,  and  aside  from  their  hid 
eous  noise  troubled  them  no  more. 

The  picture  which  presented  itself  to  the  eyes  of 
the  drowsy  gold-seekers  on  the  following  morning 
has  never  been  forgotten.  The  cries  of  the  prairie 
wolf  had  died  away  upon  the  distant  hills.  The  pur 
pling  east  and  its  shafts  of  gold  announced  the  new- 


THE  START  FROM  SUITER'S  FORT.  69 

born  day.  Yonder,  moving  steadily  in  the  direction 
of  the  spring,  could  be  seen  a  scattered  herd  of  an 
telopes.  They  did  not  realize  their  peril  until  within 
a  short  distance  of  the  camp,  when  they  became 
startled  by  Carter  and  Bryant  rising  to  their  feet. 
They  seemed  for  a  moment  paralyzed,  and  stood 
gazing  at  the  intruders  with  astonishment.  "  Take 
the  doe  to  the  left,"  whispered  Carter,  as  he  drew 
his  rifle  at  a  rest,  and  fired.  Two  leaden  slugs 
plowed  through  her  body,  and  leaping  up  ten  feet 
into  the  air,  she  fell  dead  in  her  tracks  ;  the  others, 
filled  with  fright,  bounded  off  like  the  wind  and 
sought  safety  in  the  forests.  Several  of  the  wolves 
lay  dead  about  the  camp,  while  others,  too  badly 
disabled  to  get  away,  watched  the  movements  of  the 
party  while  writhing  in  pain.  As  the  day  advanced 
the  vultures  were  seen  gathering  over  their  prey, 
while  the  ravens  and  buzzards  croaked  as  they 
swooped  along  over  the  plains. 

The  mules  had  got  terribly  snarled  up  during  the 
night,  and  were  found  in  the  morning  more  or  less 
bruised  and  cut.  One  of  the  largest,  which  the 
party  had  named  Moses,  because  of  his  being  con 
stantly  at  the  head,  was  found  buried  in  a  mud-hole 
close  to  the  spring.  He  had  got  entangled  in  his 
fastenings  during  the  night,  and  had  plunged  head 
long  down  the  embankment.  Upon  being  hauled 
out  he  presented  a  spectacle  not  easily  described. 


70  A    WINTER  EVENING'S  TALE. 

This  powerful  old  pathfinder  was  an  object  of  pity. 
What  a  contrast  to  his  appearance  the  day  before. 
His  body  was  covered  with  mud ;  his  head  was 
bowed  in  humble  resignation  ;  his  ears  lopped  down 
the  sides  of  his  head  like  wilted  cabbage  leaves  ;  his 
tail  —  well  it  was  there,  but  alas  its  prestige  was 
gone.  There  he  stood,  poor  fellow,  his  courage 
fizzled,  his  enthusiasm  dead,  his  dignity  compro 
mised  —  a  perfect  picture  of  "  Patience  upon  a  mon 
ument  smiling  at  Grief." 

It  was  late  before  the  company  got  away  from 
their  camping-place.  The  sun  was  streaming  through 
the  notches  of  the  Sierra  Nevada.  A  silent  gloom 
pervaded  the  great  waste.  Not  a  living  thing  could 
be  seen  except  the  carrion  birds  settling  down  upon 
their  late  camp  and  feasting  upon  the  living  and  the 
dead.  The  party  now  followed  the  landmark  until 
concealed  by  the  heavy  belts  of  timber  that  skirted 
the  plains  as  far  as  the  eye  could  reach.  Several 
Indian  trails,  bearing  imprints  of  human  feet  in  the 
soft  sandy  loam,  were  crossed  as  they  penetrated 
the  great  watersheds  of  the  approaching  river.  The 
woods  were  full  of  wild  game.  Reptiles  of  different 
species  glided  stealthily  out  of  sight  and  danger. 
Grouse  drummed  upon  the  trees.  Flocks  of  quail 
shot  out  of  the  thicket.  The  timid  hare  darted  with 
lighting  speed  into  the  heavy  ferns,  while  the  nim 
ble  squirrel  scampered  from  tree  to  tree.  The  star- 


THE  START  FROM  SUTTER'S  FORT.  Jl 

tied  deer,  surprised  in  his  retreat,  fled  before  them. 
The  sneaking  wolf  trotted  to  a  place  of  safety,  and 
watched  his  enemies  as  they  moved  slowly  over  the 
rolling  uplands.  The  grave  old  grizzly  bear  with 
his  mate  snuffed  the  impious  air  and  climbing  up 
the  steep,  craggy  hills,  gazed  upon  the  intruders 
with  seeming  wonder  and  alarm. 

The  night  was  fast  closing  in  around  them  as 
they  reached  the  ridge  that  formed  the  rim  of  the 
great  basin.  From  here  they  took  a  long,  lingering 
look  at  the  broad,  deep  valley  covered  with  heavy 
timber,  and  listened  to  the  steady  roar  of  the  river 
plunging  through  the  precipitous  canons  many  hun 
dreds  of  feet  below  where  they  stood.  One  more 
effort  brought  them  down  upon  the  banks  of  this 
stream.  Here  they  pitched  their  tent,  formally  took 
possession  of  Horseshoe  Bar,  and  declared  them 
selves  the  advanced  guards  to  the  North  Fork  of 
the- American  River. 

Three  months  after  their  settlement  upon  this 
bar,  there  came  into  the  group  of  camps  a  Mexican 
on  horseback  inquiring  for  the  Graham  company. 
They  were  cooking  their  supper  at  the  time  that 
the  stranger  rode  up  and  saluted  them.  It  was  An- 
toine,  the  servant  of  Captain  Sutter.  The  recogni 
tion  was  mutual  and  the  native  Californian  received 
a  hearty  welcome.  Before  dismounting  he  told  in 
broken  English  the  object  of  his  visit  Mr.  Graham 


72  A    WINTER  EVENING'S    TALE. 

was  dangerously  ill.  He  had  been  brought  to  the 
fort  for  care  and  treatment.  If  Frank  wished  to 
see  his  father  again  alive  he  must  leave  at  once. 
He  had  been  already  absent  three  days,  and  had 
sought  him  from  the  junction  of  the  rivers  up  to 
where  they  stood.  Preparations  were  at  once  made 
to  leave  at  break  of  day.  Sympathizing  deeply  with 
Graham's  anxiety,  his  associates  sat  up  with  him  all 
night.  The  horses  were  brought  up  and  groomed, 
a  hasty  breakfast  prepared,  the  rifles  reloaded,  the 
canteens  filled,  then  Graham  and  Antoine  sprang 
into  their  saddles.  Bidding  adieu  to  camp  mates 
and  friends,  they  dashed  out  over  the  bottoms  and 
were  quickly  lost  in  the  woods.  They  soon  struck 
the  main  trail  leading  into  the  wagon  road  connect 
ing  Auburn  with  Sacramento.  With  a  well-beaten 
road  before  them,  they  pressed  their  horses  to  the 
utmost  speed.  An  hour's  rest  at  the  Springs  and 
again  to  the  saddle.  Heavy  emigrant  trains  were 
met  on  their  way  to  the  mines,  and  long  lines  of 
pack  mules  passed  them  on  their  way  to  the  river 
for  supplies.  The  solemn  grandeur  of  the  prairies 
was  rapidly  passing  away,  and  civilization,  like  an 
armed  man,  was  marching  into  the  centre  of  the 
wildest  retreats. 

They  arrived  at  Sutter's  Fort  long  before  the  sun 
had  reached  the  meridian.  Dismounting  within  the 
in  closure,  Frank  Graham  gave  his  horse  in  charge 


THE   START  FROM  SUTTERS  FORT  73 

of  Antoine,  and  followed  the  servant  to  the  "quar 
ters."  A  perceptible  change  had  taken  place  within 
the  past  four  months.  The  fort  had  been  trans 
formed  into  a  hospital,  and  many  sickly-looking  men 
were  seen  lounging  #bout  in  the  warm  October  air. 
In  the  corner  of  the  reception  room  stood  a  desk 
upon  which  lay  a  register  where  each  patient's  name 
and  late  place  of  residence  were  recorded.  On  the 
shelves  about  the  room  were  noticed  bundles  of 
clothing  neatly  secured  and  tagged  with  the  own 
er's  name.  Mr.  Graham's  name  was  on  that  book, 
and  his  bundle  of  clothes  lay  on  the  shelf  nearest 
the  door.  The  date  of  his  enteriiig  the  hospital, 
and  the  nature  of  his  disease  were  there,  but  the 
blank  adjoining  his  name  was  not  filled  out  as  were 
those  above  when  discharged  or  dead.  Frank  gazed 
upon  the  register  and  the  singular  looking  bundles 
in  painful  silence.  He  began  to  suffer  intensely 
with  suspense  while  his  heart  throbbed  with  sus 
picion  and  alarm.  At  this  moment  the  attending 
physician  entered,  and  with  a  polite  bow  looked 
keenly  into  the  eyes  of  his  visitor  and  said,  "  Your 
name  is  Graham,  I  believe." 

"Yes,  sir,"  replied  Frank,  "  and  I  have  come  to 
see  my  father." 

"  Yes,  I  see,"  musingly  interrupted  the  doctor, 
then  hesitated,  and  for  some  moments  stood  twisting 
the  ends  of  his  long,  gray  beard  with  his  fingers, 


74  A    WINTER  EVENING'S   TALE. 

into  a  sort  of  half  knot.  Suddenly  he  broke  the 
silence  by  saying,  "  Graham,  I  fear  you  are  too  late. 
Please  be  seated.  I  have  an  engagement  for  a  short 
time.  I  will  send  in  your  father's  nurse."  And 
turning  quickly  upon  his  heel,  started  for  the  door. 
But  Graham  grasped  him  firmly  by  the  arm,  before 
he  had  time  to  get  away,  and  with  a  voice  choked 
with  emotion,  begged  him  to  end  this  painful  sus 
pense  and  tell  him  the  worst  at  once. 

To  this  appeal  the  doctor  immediately  took  his 
seat  at  the  desk,  and  with  pen  and  ink  filled  out  the 
blank  in  his  father's  record.  Then  pointing  with 
his  finger  to  the  book  he  left  the  room. 

The  completed  record  read  as  follows  :  "  James 
Graham,  arrived  October  17,  1849.  Disease,  haem 
orrhage  of  the  bowels.  Died,  October  27th.  Bur 
ied,  28th.  Late  residence,  Littleton,  N.  Y.  No 
effects." 

A  few  minutes  later  the  nurse  found  Graham  with 
his  face -buried  in  his  hands,  in  great  distress.  He 
assured  him  everything  had  been  done  to  comfort 
his  father  in  his  last  moments.  He  had  been  brought 
close  to  a  window  overlooking  the  prairie,  and  when 
found,  his  eyes  were  fixed  upon  the  trail  leading  up 
from  the  ferry.  It  was  here  that  he  had  lain  for 
long,  weary  hours,  and  felt  his  life  fast  ebbing  away. 
It  was  here  between  anguish  and  hope  —  with  his 
eyes  sweeping  the  broad  open  plains,  and  his  heart 


THE  START  FROM  SUTTERS  FORT.  75 

yearning  tenderly  for  the  return  of  his  boy  —  that 
his  sun  set  in  gloom  and  obscurity,  to  rise  again  on 
a  far  more  glorious  morn.  His  remains  were  se 
curely  wrapped  in  his  blanket  and  buried,  and  they 
now  rest  in  the  shadow  of  the  wall  in  the  centre  of 
the  Sacramento  Valley. 

The  following  note,  found  pinned  to  the  bosom  of 
his  father's  shirt,  was  presented  to  Graham  with  the 
bundle  of  clothing  :  — 

"  MY  DEAR  BOY,  —  I  am  rapidly  sinking — I  shall 
be  gone  before  you  arrive.  My  effects  are  with 
Stanley  at  the  ferry.  Settle  with  Antoine  for  his 
services,  and  liquidate  this  department  with  the  res 
idue.  Release  your  mortgaged  home  and  keep  it. 
Be  kind  to  your  mother.  Be  a  comfort  to  her  de 
clining  years,  and  a  staff  to  her  old  age.  Submit  to 
the  vicissitudes  of  life  with  fortitude,  and  be  of  good 
cheer.  We  shall  meet  again. 

"  Your  affectionate  father, 

"  GRAHAM." 


CHAPTER   VII. 

THE   INDIAN    RAID    AT   THE    CORRAL. 

"  Oh  !  breathe  not  his  name,  let  it  sleep  in  the  shade, 
Where  cold  and  unhonored  his  relics  are  laid  ; 
Sad,  silent,  and  dark  be  the  tears  that  we  shed, 
As  the  night  dew  that  falls  on  the  grave  o'er  his  head. 

"  But  the  night  dew  that  falls,  though  in  silence  it  weeps, 
Shall  brighten  with  verdure  the  grave  where  he  sleeps, 
And  the  tear  that  we  shed,  though  in  secret  it  rolls, 
Shall  long  keep  his  memory  green  in  our  souls." 

MOORE. 

IF  you  stand  upon  Piza's  Hill  and  let  your  eyes 
follow  the  range  of  hills  which  encircle  the  Spanish 
Corral,  you  will  be  reminded  of  the  similarity  it 
bears  to  a  huge  wash-basin.  The  bottom  of  the 
cavity  rises  gradually  at  the  centre,  then  sloping 
gracefully  down  along,  forms  a  beautiful,  broad,  and 
level  valley.  The  timbered  walls  run  up  sharply 
with  ugly  cliffs  and  massive  bowlders,  and  the  ra 
vines  which  traverse  the  hill-sides  and  empty  into 
the  bottoms  are  the  beds  through  which  the  winter 
rains  find  access  to  the  main  ravine. 

There  are  two  ways  to  reach  the  basin ;  one  from 
the  north,  beginning  in  the  neighborhood  of  Bear 
River,  and  the  other,  by  following  the  trail  along 
the  bank  of  the  Auburn  ravine.  This  beautiful 


THE  INDIAN  RAID  AT  THE   CORRAL.  77 

camping  ground  was  occupied  by  the  Chief  Piza  and 
his  tribe  of  Indians.  They  had  long  lived  in  this 
secluded  spot,  because  of  its  proximity  to  the  rivers, 
which  abounded  with  fish.  The  woods  were  also 
filled  with  game,  and  the  prairies  alive  with  herds 
of  cattle.  Then,  again,  the  timber  was  largely  of 
oak,  the  acorn  furnishing  another  important  article 
of  food.  There  was  still  another  inducement  to 
their  remaining  here  which  was  of  no  less  impor 
tance,  the  singular  formation  of  the  inclosure,  which 
afforded  them  protection  against  surprise  by  hostile 
bands.  Chief  Piza  had  possibly  seen  the  pale-faced 
man,  in  his  visits  to  the  river  for  supplies  for  his 
tribe,  but  few  of  his  people,  however,  had  seen  or 
heard  anything  of  him.  Hence  the  sudden  appear 
ance  of  three  white  men  leading  their  horses  into 
his  domains  was  a  surprise.  These  men  were  Car 
ter,  Graham,  and  Bryant,  on  a  prospecting  tour. 
They  were  hunting  for  winter  diggings  for  the 
miners  on  Horseshoe  Bar,  and  had  unexpectedly  got 
into  the  Corral,  so  were  as  much  astonished  at  their 
strange  position  as  were  Piza  and  his  people.  Of 
course  they  were  immediately  surrounded  by  the 
startled  tribe,  and  continued  for  some  time  to  be 
the  object  of  eager  curiosity.  Strange  as  it 'may 
seem,  they  were  not  molested,  but  followed  from 
place  to  place  and  closely  watched.  They  filled  their 
sacks  with  specimens  of  dirt  from  the  gulches  and 


78  A    WINTER  EVENING'S   TALE. 

ravines,  and  were  allowed  to  depart  with  no  further 
annoyance  than  might  have  been  expected  from  a 
tribe  of  bewildered  savages  whose  inquisitiveness 
could  not  be  appeased.  Shortly  after  this  event  the 
Graham  party  moved  into  the  Corral  and  settled 
there.  Subsequently  other  and  larger  parties  went 
in  and  took  up  claims,  and  the  charm  and  beauties 
of  Piza's  ranche  faded  away  forever.  Poor  Piza  be 
came  greatly  disturbed,  and  visited  each  new  arri 
val  with  grunts  of  displeasure.  Indeed,  his  con 
dition  had  become  very  trying.  Hitherto  pleasantly 
situated,  surrounded  by  every  comfort  his  rude  sim 
plicity  required,  to  what  had  he  and  his  people  been 
reduced  ?  The  rivers  had  already  been  niched  from 
them,  and  the  deer  either  slain  or  driven  beyond 
their  domains.  Their  timber  was  fast  yielding  to 
the  woodman's  axe,  while  the  prairies  were  being 
swept  as  with  a  broom.  Piza  was  a  man  of  peace 
and  counseled  forbearance ;  but  there  was  no  peace. 
The  sanctity  of  his  wigwam  was  not  wholly  secure 
from  intrusion.  The  purity  of  his  people  was  often 
times  exposed  to  temptation  and  sin,  and  trouble 
and  discontent  filled  the  air.  This  was  the  way 
matters  stood  at  the  opening  of  spring,  when,  to  the 
astonishment  of  all,  the  Indians  surrendered  their 
camp  grounds  and  quietly  moved  away. 

Piza  located  his  tribe  upon  Bear  River,  and  while    . 
smarting  under  the  wrongs  inflicted  by  the  white 


THE  INDIAN  RAID  AT  THE   CORRAL.  79 

man,  listened  to  evil  counsels  and  permitted  his 
young  men  to  make  a  raid  upon  the  Corral.  Enter 
ing  the  basin  at  one  end,  they  passed  out  through 
the  other  and  escaped.  They  did  not  attack  the 
camps  in  detail,  but  deployed  in. a  fan-like  form  and 
swept  over  the  encampment  like  a  tornado.  It  was 
a  bold  and  hazardous  undertaking,  but  successfully 
carried  out.  The  trail  was  broad  and  bloody,  and 
vengeance  and  hate  quailed  at  its  own  work. 

The  raid  was  speedily  followed  by  retaliation 
sharp  and  severe.  Other  and  similar  assaults  were 
made  in  that  vicinity,  into  which  other  tribes  and 
other  parties  were  drawn,  and  soon  there  com 
menced  a  desultory  war  which  lasted  for  some  time, 
the  results  being,  as  might  have  been  expected, 
most  disastrous  for  the  Indians.  Piza's  organization 
was  broken  up,  his  people  scattered,  and  he  became 
a  wanderer  till  his  death. 

Let  us  see  how  the  settlers  of  the  Corral  with 
stood  the  shock,  and  then  sum  up  the  fruits  of  Piza's 
victory. 

It  was  spring.  The  end  of  the  wet  season  had 
come.  The  waters  of  the  gulches  and  small  streams 
were  gradually  subsiding.  The  birds  sang  upon  the 
budding  trees,  the  bee  sought  his  favorite  flower, 
the  rabbit  and  hare  nibbled  the  fresh  young  grass, 
and  the  quail  whistled  in  fern  and  thicket.  The 
Corral,  so  peaceful  and  so  beautiful,  seemed  to  smile 


80  A    WINTER  EVENINGS   TALE. 

on  each  successive  morning,  as  the  sun  sipped  the 
dewy  mantle  that  covered  it  like  a  web  of  silver. 
The  miners,  too,  were  astir.  Rumors  of  rich  de 
posits,  and  of  vast  quantities  of  gold  which  the  find 
ers  were  unable  to  move,  filled  the  air.  New  mines 
of  fabulous  wealth  had  been  discovered.  Secret 
diggings  had  been  struck  by  a  few,  and  mammoth 
fortunes  dawned  before  their  eyes,  as  in  delusive 
dreams.  The  Corral  was  fully  aroused,  and  the 
hearts  of  the  pioneers  thrilled  with  joy  as  they 
listened  to  the  recital  of  these  wonderful  stories. 
Mules  and  horses  were  brought  in,  large  quantities 
of  provisions  purchased,  pack-saddles  examined, 
ammunition  procured,  clothes  and  tools  provided,  — 
everything  was  being  put  in  readiness  by  the  sev 
eral  companies  for  an  early  start  for  the  new  fields 
of  gold. 

There  were  three  respectable  looking  log-cabins 
belonging  to  the  group  of  camps  which  constituted 
the  settlement  in  the  Corral.  They  were  well  roofed, 
substantially  built,  and  afforded  good  shelter  and  pro 
tection.  The  remainder  of  the  dwellings  were  either 
of  canvas,  or  walled  with  logs  and  canvas  covered, 
and  were  scattered  over  the  bottoms  to  within  a 
short  distance  of  the  Notch,  the  main  entrance  to 
the  Corral.  One  of  these  log-cabins  was  cut  off 
from  the  rest  of  the  encampment  by  the  Auburn 
ravine,  a  rapid  stream  of  water  which  flowed  through 


THE  INDIAN  RAID  AT  THE   CORRAL.  8 1 

the  lower  base  of  the  valley.  It  stood  by  itself  on 
the  opposite  bank,  and  could  be  safely  reached  only 
by  the  foot-bridge,  made  from  a  fallen  tree,  which 
spanned  the  creek  directly  in  a  line  with  the  cabin 
door.  This  was  the  Graham  party's  camp,  and  was 
the  first  log-cabin  built  in  the  Corral.  They  had 
chosen  this  peculiar  spot  with  a  view  to  their  safety 
in  case  of  trouble  with  the  Indians,  rather  than  be 
cause  of  the  charms  which  the  location  was  said  to 
possess. 

Major  Winchester  and  family  were  the  first  to 
break  camp,  and  were  busy  all  day  preparing  for  an 
early  start  the  next  morning.  They  were  to  leave 
for  Deer  Creek,  some  fifty  miles  north  of  the  Cor 
ral,  where  it  was  said  rich  placer  diggings  had  been 
recently  found.  To  facilitate  matters,  their  covered 
wagon  had  been  brought  up  to  their  cabin  door  and 
filled  with  their  household  effects.  The  wagon 
wheels  were  also  securely  locked,  and  their  oxen 
yoked  and  chained  to  the  body.  As  night  set  in  the 
youngest  children  were  stowed  away  in  the  loose 
bedding  in  the  tail  end  of  the  covered  wagon. 
Neighbors  from  the  Flats  and  friends  from  the  Hol 
low  were  down  at  the  Major's  to  join  in  an  old-fash 
ioned  handshake.  It  seemed  to  be  the  wish  of  the 
company  that  the  Major  and  his  family  should  have 
j.  good  send-off.  The  Graham  party  were  there, 
having  as  usual  covered  their  fire  well  with  wood 

6 


82  A    WTNTER  EVENING'S   TALE. 

before  leaving  their  cabin,  that  the  increasing  light 
might  facilitate  their  return  across  the  foot-bridge 
in  the  extreme  darkness  of  the  night. 

The  evening  wore  pleasantly  away.  Mrs.  Win 
chester  furnished  her  guests  with  refreshments,  and 
at  intervals  busied  herself  with  packing  away  the 
remainder  of  the  unneeded  cooking  utensils  before 
retiring  for  the  night.  The  Major  sat  upon  a  stool 
in  the  centre  of  a  group  of  friends,  scratching  with 
a  sharp-pointed  stick  upon  the  hard,  beaten  floor 
the  route  they  should  take  to  reach  their  new  home. 
The  Major's  sons,  coiled  up  on  the  hearth  on  either 
side  of  the  fire-place,  were  busily  engaged  molding 
bullets.  It  seemed  they  had  been  authorized  to  ex 
amine  the  weapons,  for  standing  up  and  leaning 
against  the  chimney  were  seen  half  a  dozen  long- 
barreled  rifles  shining  as  clean  and  bright  as  new. 
Replenished  powder-horns  hung  upon  the  rafters, 
bullet-pouches  were  filled  with  bright  new  bullets, 
newly  cut  buckskin  patches  and  water-proof  caps 
were  neatly  packed  in  the  spring  boxes  in  the  stock 
of  each  rifle.  The  boys  had  completed  their  work, 
and  were  packing  away  their  lead  and  bullet  molds, 
when  Andrews,  thrusting  his  head  inside  the  cabin 
door,  said,  "  Boys,  there  is  trouble  of  some  sort  up 
in  the  Hollow."  "  Listen,"  he  added,  as  the  men 
stepped  outside  the  cabin.  "  Now,  don't  that  queer- 
ish  noise  sound  like  some  one  in  distress  ?  " 


THE  INDIAN  RAID  A  T  THE   CORRAL.  83 

The  party  moved  rapidly  forward  in  the  direction 
of  the  increasing  cries,  sensibly  affected  by  the  sin 
gular  state  of  affairs  in  the  neighborhood  of  the 
Hollow.  The  night  was  dark,  but  starlight  and 
clear.  The  party,  half  bewildered  at  these  frightful 
alarms,  had  gone  perhaps  fifty  paces  in  the  direction 
of  the  trail  that  lead  into  the  Hollow,  when  instantly, 
and  as  if  actuated  by  one  common  impulse,  they 
came  to  a  halt.  A  dark  spot  was  seen  to  unfold 
itself  and  approach  them.  As  it  came  nearer  it 
took  the  shape  of  a  long  black  wall.  Silent  as  death 
each  man  stood,  and  watched  this  strange  appari 
tion  as  it  came  nearer  and  yet  nearer. 

"By  heavens!  but  those  are  men!"  whispered 
Anthony. 

"Aye,  and  Indians,  too  !  "  gasped  Bryant. 

"  Every  man  to  his  cabin  ! "  shouted  the  major  ; 
"  and  defend  them  with  your  lives  ! "  and  the  whole 
party  broke  and  fled. 

Carter  and  Graham  reached  the  foot-bridge  to 
gether,  crossed  on  their  hands  and  knees,  gained 
the  cabin,  and  swung  the  door  wide  open.  The  light 
from  the  blazing  fire  shot  out  over  the  bridge,  like 
that  from  the  head-light  of  a  locomotive.  They 
grasped  their  arms  and  stood  in  the  shadow  of  the 
cabin  and  covered  the  bridge  with  their  rifles.  In 
a  moment  Burns  and  Wallace  sprang  upon  the 
bridge  and  crossed.  Realizing  the  situation,  they, 


84  A    WINTER  EVENING'S   TALE. 

too,  seized  their  rifles  and  fell  into  line.  Next  came 
Littlefield,  who  bounded  over  the  bridge  like  a  deer. 
Now  for  Bryant !  What  could  detain  him  ?  Ah, 
there  he  comes,  God  be  praised  !  But  he  staggers  ! 
Ah,  he  falls  !  In  an  instant  he  is  caught  up  by 
Littlefield  and  Wallace  and  placed  safely  within  the 
cabin.  The  door  was  then  closed  and  the  camp  put 
into  a  state  of  defense. 

The  fire  upon  the  broad  hearth  continued  to  burn 
briskly,  the  volume  of  flame  roaring  and  crackling 
as  it  went  up  the  chimney  and  dissolved  in  the  mid 
night  air.  The  bright,  cheerful  blaze,  threw  its  mel 
lowing  light  into  the  remotest  corners  of  the  room, 
making  the  actors  in  this  night  of  trouble  easily  dis 
tinguishable.  Carter  and  Wallace  stood  on  either 
side  of  the  window,  leaning  against  the  wall  of  the 
cabin.  Their  faces  were  pale  but  resolute,  and 
while  their  eyes  rested  upon  the  central  figure  of 
the  group,  they  were  listening  attentively  for  the 
footsteps  which  should  signal  the  moment  of  attack. 
They  were  armed  with  iron  crowbars,  most  formida 
ble  weapons  in  the  hands  of  powerful  men.  Burns 
and  Littlefield  guarded  the  next  weakest  point  in  the 
cabin,  the  door,  which  had  been  barred  and  braced 
with  logs  of  wood.  They  were  armed  with  heavy 
pick  handles,  and  stood,  like  their  associates,  await 
ing  the  deadly  encounter.  From  their  post  they 
ever  and  anon  glanced  wistfully  in  the  direction  of 


THE  INDIAN  RAID  AT  THE  CORRAL.     85 

Graham,  who  was  soothing  the  last  moments  of 
their  dying  friend.  In  the  centre  of  the  cabin, 
and  stretched  upon  the  floor,  lay  poor  Bryant.  He 
was  shot  through  the  body,  and  the  arrow  was  still 
buried  in  him.  Graham  cut  the  point  off  close  to 
his  breast  and  pulled  the  shaft  out  from  between 
his  shoulders.  Poor  fellow  !  he  did  not  speak.  For 
a  few  seconds  his  eyes  wandered  about  the  cabin, 
resting  finally  upon  the  dimly  burning  lantern  sus 
pended  to  the  ridge-pole  directly  over  his  head.  He 
made  two  attempts  to  raise  himself  upon  his  elbows, 
as  though  he  would  speak,  but  they  were  unsuc 
cessful,  and  the  words  which  he  fain  would  have 
spoken  died  upon  his  lips  as  his  young  life  went  out 
forever.  Those  words  were,  "  Mother  !  oh,  mother ! " 
How  beautiful,  and  yet  how  infinitely  sad,  was  the 
death  scene  of  Jesse  Bryant.  In  the  supremest  mo 
ments  of  his  life,  in  a  strange  land,  thousands  of 
miles  from  his  New  England  home,  his  poor,  stricken 
heart  cried  for  the  holy  influence  of  the  only  friend 
of  his  life  —  and  not  in  vain.  The  vision  that  re 
sponded  to  that  cry  was  none  other  than  she  whose 
hallowed  name  went  out  with  his  last  breath  into 
the  darkness  and  gloom  of  the  night.  Mother, 
blessed  be  thy  name  forever  ! 

For  upwards  of  three  long,  weary  hours,  these 
brave  fellows  stood  guard  over  the  weakest  points 
of  their  cabin.  Not  a  footstep  had  been  heard,  and 


86  A    WINTER  EVENING'S   TALE, 

as  yet  they  had  not  been  disturbed.  Graham  got 
up  among  the  rafters  and  made  a  hole  in  the  roof 
and  looked  out.  The  day  was  dawning.  The  tinted 
sky  to  them  was  the  emblem  of  peace.  It  was  in 
deed  refreshing,  and  most  gratefully  acknowledged. 
Darkness,  however,  as  yet  hung  over  the  Corral. 
The  whip-poor-will  was  still  busy  and  the  owl  occa 
sionally  exposed  his  retreat.  The  rapid  little  stream 
went  singing  along  over  the  rocks  and  down  through 
the  rocky  bottoms.  The  wind  moaned  and  sighed 
through  the  forest  trees,  and  the  air  was  filled  with 
fancied  noises.  The  settlement  could  not  be  distin 
guished,  and  our  friends  had  a  strong  desire  to  know 
the  condition  of  things  in  that  vicinity.  Carter, 
therefore,  fired  his  rifle  through  the  window  and 
listened.  An  immediate  response  came  whirling 
through  the  air  from  the  direction  of  Major  Win 
chester's.  Shortly  afterwards  two  more  shots  were 
heard  in  the  direction  of  the  foothills  near  the  Flats. 
Then,  again,  a  fire  was  seen  burning  on  the  knoll 
close  by  the  Major's  cabin.  Men  were  seen  gather 
ing  about  it  from  various  directions,  and  they  felt 
assured  it  was  safe  to  venture  out.  Their  cabin, 
therefore,  was  made  secure,  and,  crossing  the  foot 
bridge,  in  a  short  time  they  joined  the  group  around 
the  fire  upon  the  knoll. 

The  substance  of  the  interview  at  the  Major's  can 
be  summed  up  in  a  few  words  :  Piza's  warriors  had 


THE  INDIAN  RAID  AT  THE   CORRAL.  8? 

made  a  raid  through  the  Corral  and  stripped  the 
settlers  of  everything  they  could  lay  their  hands  on. 
Blankets,  clothing,  and  provisions  were  culled  from 
the  deserted  camps.  Horses,  mules,  and  cattle  were 
driven  away,  including  the  Major's  oxen  tied  to  the 
wagon  in  front  of  his  cabin.  The  raid  had  been 
successful,  and  the  raiders,  well  laden  with  booty, 
had  made  good  their  escape. 

The  loss  was  a  serious  one  for  the  settlers.  Their 
stock  and  supplies  were  indispensable  for  an  early 
start  for  the  secret  diggings  at  the  head-waters  of 
the  Yuba  River.  If  the  raiders  could  not  be  over 
taken  and  their  plunder  recovered,  the  settlers  would 
have  to  submit  to  losses  which  would  be  most  dis 
astrous  in  their  effect  on  the  prospects  of  many  of 
the  company.  It  was  decided  to  start  in  pursuit  at 
once. 

Whatever  were  the  intentions  of  the  raiders  in 
their  descent  upon  the  Corral,  it  was  quite  evident 
that  their  plans  were  in  a  measure  frustrated.  It 
was  conceded  by  all,  that  a  general  massacre  had 
been  averted  by  the  unusual  gathering  at  the  Major's 
and  the  lateness  of  the  hour  to  which  the  social 
pleasures  had  been  prolonged.  The  sun  was  about 
an  hour  high  when  the  miners  from  the  Corral 
started  in  pursuit  of  Piza's  braves.  The  trail  was 
easily  found,  for  thirty  head  of  cattle  and  horses 
driven  at  their  utmost  speed  leave  no  indistinct  trail 


88  A    WINTER  EVENING'S   TALE. 

behind.  The  raiders'  intentions  were  to  reach  their 
camp  before  dark.  The  pursuers'  purpose  was  to 
prevent  this.  The  former  had  three  hours  the  start, 
but  were  hampered  with  plunder  and  the  care  of  the 
stock.  The  latter  were  in  light  marching  order,  and 
besides,  were  stimulated  by  motives  which  could  not 
be  overestimated. 

At  noon  the  raiders  were  overtaken  and  sur 
rounded.  They  were  discovered  by  a  light  smoke 
seen  to  arise  from  a  deep  canon  where  they  had 
halted  for  rest.  It  was  evident  to  the  pursuers  that 
in  assaulting  the  Indians'  position  they  must  lose 
either  the  Indians  or  their  spoils.  The  noise  and 
confusion  of  a  sudden  attack,  the  cracking  of  rifles 
and  the  savage  yells  of  a  surprised  enemy,  must 
surely  stampede  the  stock  and  allow  the  prize  to  es 
cape  which  had  so  providentially  been  placed  within 
their  grasp.  The  raiders  had  failed  to  estimate 
the  white  men's  pluck  and  endurance,  hence  while 
lounging  about  their  temporary  camp  in  fancied  se 
curity,  they  started  to  their  feet  to  find  their  lives  in 
danger,  and  their  ill-gotten  gains  wrenched  from 
their  hands  in  sight  of  the  valley  in  which  was  the 
stronghold  of  the  tribe.  The  return  to  the  Corral 
that  evening  was  an  event  long  to  be  remembered 
The  poor  jaded  animals  were  only  too  glad  to  reach 
their  old  quarters  again,  and  the  triumphant  .party 
were  equally  glad  to  accept  the  much  needed  re 
pose. 


THE  INDIAN  RAID  AT  THE  CORRAL.     89 

The  following  day  the  Graham  company  and  two 
others  belonging  to  the  Corral  were  called  upon  to 
perform  a  painful  duty,  namely,  to  bury  their  dead. 
Poor  Bryant,  it  would  seem,  stayed  behind  on  the 
night  of  the  raid,  to  assist  the  Major  rescue  his 
children  from  the  bed  in  the  wagon.  He  could  not 
ignore  their  cries,  and  seizing  the  youngest,  who 
stood  upon  the  tail-board  in  her  night-dress,  was  in 
the  act  of  passing  her  through  the  cabin  window 
into  her  mother's  arms  when  the  fatal  arrow  struck 
him.  Jesse  Bryant  was  a  brave  man,  and  a  bright 
and  cheerful  associate.  He  was  a  gentleman  of  the 
best  description,  and  a  most  inflexible  friend.  He 
was  missed,  terribly  missed,  by  his  surviving  asso 
ciates.  He  received  a  royal  burial,  as  he  deserved, 
and  the  monument  under  which  his  rude  casket 
was  laid  will  stand  for  ages  after  his  body  has  re 
turned  to  dust  and  ashes. 

'  It  was  about  the  first  of  April,  1850,  that  the 
Graham  company  took  leave  of  the  Spanish  Corral. 
They  were  splendidly  equipped  and  bountifully  sup 
plied  for  their  contemplated  trip  to  the  Yuba  River. 
They  crossed  the  Flats  and  then  took  the  bridle-path  . 
which  led  up  over  the  western  ridge.  It  was  their 
purpose  to  follow  the  two  belts  of  timber  land  skirt 
ing  the  prairie,  and  avoid  the  Indians  on  the  upper 
Bear  River.  As  the  pack-train  reached  the  ridge 
overlooking  the  Corral  they  came  to  a  halt,  that  they 


QO  A    WINTER   EVENING'S   TALE. 

might  take  a  last  look  at  the  old  Spanish  Corral. 
It  would  have  been  impossible  for  these  men  to  sep 
arate  themselves  from  their  old  camp-ground  with 
out  some  feelings  of  sadness.  If  the  experiences  of 
the  past  winter  had  been  bitter,  in  some  respects, 
in  others  they  had  been  pleasant  ;  for  many  ac 
quaintances  had  been  formed,  among  which  were 
some  whom  it  was  an  honor  to  have  known,  and 
whom  they  were  proud  to  acknowledge.  Their  eyes 
followed  along  down  the  bottoms  of  the  basin. 
There  were  the  deserted  camps  with  their  chimneys 
still  standing.  The  broad,  level  valley  was  torn  and 
rent,  and  the  gulches  and  ravines  mangled  and  dis 
figured.  The  once  rapid  stream  was  now  dry ;  its 
singing  waters  had  gone  over  its  bed  never  again  to 
return.  Yonder  stood  their  own  log-cabin  and  the 
foot-bridge  that  led  to  it.  There  were  the  mammoth 
oaks  with  their  ponderous  arms  stretching  far  out 
over  the  bluffs,  and  the  tall  pines  through  which  the 
wind  sighed  and  moaned  in  the  long  winter  nights. 
On  the  rise  in  the  centre  of  a  cluster  of  fir-trees 
stood  the  granite  bowlder  under  whose  shadow  their 
friend  and  associate  slept  his  last  sleep.  He  had 
shared  with  them  the  discomforts  of  a  long  voyage 
at  sea,  submitted  cheerfully  to  every  privation  en 
countered  in  their  pilgrimage  to  the  mines,  met 
all  difficulties  as  they  arose  with  manly  courage,  and 
now  he  must  be  left  behind,  his  grave  unknown, 


THE  INDIAN  RAID  AT  THE   CORRAL.  91 

his  record  unchiseled  ;  he  must  remain  the  only  hu 
man  tenant  in  this  camp  of  desolation  and  ruin. 
With  uncovered  heads  and  hearts  touched  with  pain 
they  bade  their  slumbering  comrade  and  deserted 
camp  farewell. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

SEEKING   WEALTH   UNDER   DIFFICULTIES. 

"The  coffin  bore  his  name,  that  those 

Of  other  years  might  know, 
When  earth  its  secret  should  disclose 
Whose  bones  were  laid  below. 

"We  only  heard  the  winter's  wind, 

In  many  a  sullen  gust, 
As  o'er  the  open  grave  inclined, 
We  murmured,  'Dust  to  dust.'* 

BOWLES. 

TWELVE  men  and  twelve  heavily  laden  pack-mules, 
exhausted  from  a  long  day's  march,  halted,  as  the 
night  closed  in,  on  one  of  the  numerous  bars  formed 
by  the  waters  of  the  South  Yuba.  These  composed 
the  Graham  company,  which  had  been  enlarged  to 
its  present  dimensions  for  prudential  reasons.  Be 
yond  the  rocks  and  sands  and  driftwood  which 
covered  the  bar,  and  partially  screened  by  a  light 
growth  of  beech  and  maples,  was  a  piece  of  table 
land  of  peculiar  shape  and  of  marvelous  beauty.  It 
was  covered  by  a  thick  body  of  clover  and  grass, 
intermixed  with  flowers  of  various  hues  and  fra 
grance.  A  stream  of  water,  sparkling  and  cold  as 
ice,  danced  over  the  rocks  and  plunged  down  steep 
declivities  into  boiling  pools,  and  then,  rushing 


SEEKING    WEALTH  UNDER  DIFFICULTIES.     93 

madly  down  the  tangled  slopes,  lost  itself  in  the 
Yuba.  Trees  of  mammoth  proportions  stood  like 
frowning  guardsmen.  Drooping  willows  of  singular 
grace  and  beauty  kissed  the  earth  with  their  foliage. 
Massive  rocks  and  hills  and  mountains  formed  a 
background,  and  these  were  covered  with  shrubs, 
heavy  timber,  and  perpetual  snow.  Precipitous 
peaks  and  lofty  summits  glistened  in  the  noonday 
sun  like  pillars  of  solid  gold.  Indeed,  it  were  im 
possible  to  exaggerate  the  loveliness  of  this  wild 
and  uncultivated  lawn,  or  the  magnificence  and 
grandeur  of  the  surrounding  scenery. 

The  company  took  possession  of  this  romantic 
spot,  and  christened  it  Eagle  Roost.  The  name  was 
suggested  by  the  numbers  of  those  birds  which 
nightly  hovered  over  their  camp,  and  took  refuge 
among  the  dizzy  crags  on  the  mountain  steeps. 
Here  they  built  a  most  substantial  log-cabin.  It 
was  to  be  their  grand  base  to  which,  in  case  of  sick 
ness  on  the  route,  or  disaster  befalling  the  expedi 
tion,  they  could  fall  back  and  find  both  shelter  and 
supplies. 

It  was  about  the  first  of  June  that  the  party  left 
the  camp  and  proceeded  on  their  hazardous  journey 
to  the  great  gold  deposits  at  the  sources  of  the 
Yuba  River.  In  the  early  mining  days  it  was  a 
common  belief  that  the  gold  taken  from  the  beds  of 
the  streams  was  deposited  there  by  the  impetuosity 


94  A    WINTER  EVENING 'S    TALE. 

of  the  waters  during  the  flood  seasons  caused  by 
rains  and  dissolving  snows.  The  supposition  seemed 
to  be  verified  by  the  fact  that  the  gold  increased  in 
coarseness  as  the  heads  of  the  rivers  were  neared. 
Hence  it  was  believed  by  the  earliest  pioneers  that 
to  reach  the  source  from  whence  flowed  these  un 
told  riches  was  to  reach  and  possess  a  fortune,  —  a 
delusion  for  which  thousands  paid  bitterly,  —  a  vision 
which  decoyed  many  a  brave  heart  to  an  untimely 
grave. 

As  the  Graham  party  passed  through  one  of  these 
great  trials  and  suffered  proportionately  with  others 
engaged  in  similar  exploits,  the  events  of  the  next 
thirty  days  will  be  followed  with  deep  interest.  It 
was  a  novel  sight  to  witness  this  long  train  of  men 
and  animals  breaking  a  path  along  the  steep  sides 
and  up  the  ragged  mountain  slopes.  It  was  a  grand 
and  exhilarating  struggle,  which  the  party  seemed 
to  enjoy,  for  the  woods  and  gulches  resounded 
with  their  songs  and  jests.  The  hills  and  valleys, 
like  other  portions  of  the  country  passed  through, 
abounded  with  game.  Several  bears,  disturbed  by 
the  heavy  rocks  which,  rolling  from  their  beds,  went 
crashing  through  their  lairs  to  the  bottoms,  were 
forced  out  into  plain  view,  when,  after  taking  in  the 
situation,  they  plunged  into  the  river,  and  swimming 
with  the  current,  landed  safely  on  the  opposite  side, 
apparently  uninjured  by  the  volley  of  bullets  dis 
charged  from  the  prospectors'  rifles. 


SEEKING    WEALTH  UNDER  DIFFICULTIES.      95 

They  continued  to  follow  the  "ribs"  until  they 
reached  the  "backbone"  of  the  Sierra  Nevada.  The 
backbone,  commonly  so  called,  was  the  ridges  which 
separated  the  two  rivers,  and  was  the  pathway  to 
the  heads  of  the  different  streams.  The  party  now 
struck  out,  keeping  in  view  the  great  seam  which 
indicated  the  bed  of  the  river  at  whose  source  lay 
waiting  the  consummation  of  their  earthly  desires. 

The  country  for  many  miles  around  them  opened 
up  a  varied  picture  of  extreme  beauty  and  loveliness. 
The  trees  were  of  immense  size,  wonderfully  sym 
metrical,  and  grew  to  great  heights.  The  notches 
and  passes  in  the  mountains  afforded  continual  food 
for  speculation.  Bowlders  of  mammoth  proportions 
stood  here  and  there,  and  like  angry  giants  seemed 
to  dispute  an  advance.  In  some  cases  they  were 
so  nicely  adjusted,  so  equally  poised,  that  it  seemed 
as  if  a  sudden  gust  of  wind  would  topple  them  over 
and  send  them  whirling  and  crashing  down  the 
mountain  steeps  into  the  chasm  below.  The  gulches 
and  canons  through  which  they  passed  were  pict 
uresque  and  fanciful.  The  waters  were  clear  and 
sparkling,  rushing  madly  down  ragged  stairways, 
roaring  and  foaming  with  savage  speed  along  their 
rocky  beds.  The  timber  grew  sparser  as  they 
neared  the  snowy  regions.  The  Sierra  Nevadas  be 
came  more  conspicuous.  The  solemnity  and  grand 
eur,  hitherto  but  partially  seen,  now  burst  upon 


96  A    WINTER  EVENING'S    TALE. 

them  in  all  their  glory,  —  a  magnificent  sight,  beau 
tiful  and  yet  terribly  grand. 

Traveling  on  terra  firnia  in  the  Sierra  Nevadas 
with  a  train  of  heavily  laden  pack-mules  is  one 
thing,  but  traveling  in  deep  snow,  with  like  accom 
paniments,  is  quite  another.  As  the  company  ad 
vanced  the  snow  grew  deeper  and  deeper.  The 
animals  sank,  plunged,  and  wallowed  in  it.  Har 
nesses  gave  way,  pack-saddles  were  Loosened,  and 
provisions  were  broken  open  and  scattered  about 
them.  The  animals  became  stiff  and  jaded,  and  the 
men  annoyed  and  discouraged.  The  train  halted 
and  the  company  went  into  council. 

The  prospectors  had  met  the  first  obstacle  of  im 
portance  since  leaving  the  Corral.  They  had  yet 
fifty  miles  to  go.  This  was  the  only  practicable 
route,  and  they  possessed  all  the  means  which  were 
to  be  procured  to  bridge  the  distance.  They  must 
either  surmount  this  difficulty  or  abandon  the  enter 
prise.  This  question  kept  the  company  before  the 
camp-fire  until  the  moon,  which  had  risen  out  of  the 
vastness  of  snow  on  one  side,  disappeared  in  the 
darkness  on  the  other.  It  was  decided  that  three 
of  the  company  should  move  in  advance  of  the  main 
body,  and  lay  out  and  designate  the  route,  while  the 
remainder  were  to  follow  on  as  rapidly  as  possible, 
taking  advantage  of  the  snow  crusts  nights  and 
mornings.  With  ordinary  luck  it  was  believed  the 


SEEKING    WEALTH  UNDER  DIFFICULTIES.      97 

pathfinders  would  reach  their  destination  within  four 
days,  and  the  main  body,  with  ample  allowances, 
would  not  fail  to  unite  with  them  in  at  least  twice 
that  time.  Bradbury,  Carter,  and  Graham  volun 
teered  to  perform  this  mission.  Preparations  were 
at  once  made,  and  the  trio  took  leave  of  their  asso 
ciates  the  next  morning.  They  were  accompanied 
by  Dobbin  Grey,  a  sure-footed  and  faithful  horse. 
A  sled  was  improvised  from  braided  fir  boughs,  on 
which  \vere  carefully  packed  their  supplies  and  rifles. 
This  was  attached  to  Dobbin's  pack-saddle,  and 
proved  of  invaluable  assistance  to  both  man  and 
beast.  Mattresses  were  made  from  hemlock  and 
spruce  twigs,  on  which  blankets  were  spread,  and  a 
tolerable  night's  sleep  enjoyed.  Hearths  of  wood 
were  laid  in  the  snow,  upon  which  food  and  coffee 
were  prepared  before  a  huge  crackling  fire.  Nothing 
could  exceed  their  enjoyment  as  they  wended  their 
way  up  and  down  the  glassy  steeps  and  through  the 
intricate  chasms  of  eternal  snows. 

On  the  morning  of  the  fourth  day  the  great  seam 
which  they  had  followed  came  abruptly  to  an  end, 
the  mountains  closing  in  all  around  in  the  form  of  a 
horseshoe.  The  descent  to  the  river  was  indeed 
trying,  and  oftentimes  accompanied  with  extreme 
danger.  The  distance  traversed  to  reach  the  bot 
tom  was  several  miles,  and  the  slopes  so  nearly  per 
pendicular,  that  it  was  found  necessary  to  fasten  a 
7 


98  A    WINTER  EVENINGS   TALE. 

small  tree  to  Dobbin's  pack-saddle  to  prevent  his 
falling  headlong  to  destruction.  If  you  had  wit 
nessed  the  sagacity  old  Dobbin  displayed  in  his 
efforts  to  avert  the  impending  danger  you  would 
have  laughed  and  marveled,  for  the  moment  the 
trail  became  impracticable  by  the  natural  way,  he 
would  create  a  diversion  by  substituting  the  other 
end.  But,  thank  Heaven,  their  task  was  at  length 
accomplished.  The  supreme  purpose  of  their  fond 
est  hopes  lay  before  their  eyes  and  was  fairly  won. 
It  was  only  a  question  of  time  whether  they  would 
be  fully  compensated  for  their  faith  and  endurance. 
Three  days'  inspection  of  the  vaults,  which  nature 
had  built  with  such  consummate  skill,  changed  their 
views  and  chilled  them  to  the  bone.  The  source  of 
this  river  unfolded  a  picture  sufficiently  terrifying 
to  frighten  away  his  Satanic  Majesty,  and  to  have 
justified  him  in  pronouncing  it  the  quintessence  of 
six  infernal  regions  boiled  down  into  one.  The 
space  it  occupied  among  the  world's  exhibits  of  hor 
rors  was  nothing  compared  to  its  significance  as  a 
natural  curiosity.  The  walls  of  black  slate  were 
almost  perpendicular,  and  so  high  that  the  sun  was 
visible  only  from  eleven  till  two  ;  the  rest  of  the 
day  was  cold  and  shadowy,  the  nights  long,  weari 
some,  and  of  inky  blackness.  The  supply  streams 
came  down  precipitous  canons  which  were  as  death 
like  and  inaccessible  as  the  frozen  summits  two 


SEEKING    WEALTH  UNDER  DIFFICULTIES.      99 

thousand  feet  above.  The  beds  of  these  streams 
were  paved  with  rocks  and  bowlders,  among  which 
the  waters  plunged  with  furious  rage.  Viewed  from 
the  most  favorable  circumstances,  it  seemed  but  an 
exiled  tomb  from  nature's  creation,  out  of  which 
came  that  steady,  irksome  sound,  —  the  deep,  sullen 
roar  of  the  never-ceasing  river.  Not  a  shrub,  not  a 
spear  of  grass,  not  even  a  weed  was  to  be  found  ; 
not  sufficient  stubble  to  build  a  bird's-nest  ;  not 
earth  enough  to  bed  a  rattlesnake. 

The  sides  of  the  various  streams  were  carefully 
examined,  but  they  failed  to  discover  any  gold ;  and 
as  they  eat  their  last  meal  of  pancakes,  and  sipped 
their  last  drop  of  coffee,  they  were  forced  to  admit 
the  probable  failure  of  the  expedition.  If  nature 
had  chosen  such  places  as  this  to  hoard  her  treas 
ures,  she  had  very  likely  placed  them  beyond  the 
reach  of  man.  With  these  dark  forebodings  resting 
heavily  upon  them  they  rolled  themselves  in  their 
blankets  and  lay  down  to  sleep  and  dream. 

On  the  morning  of  the  sixth  day  their  provisions 
gave  out,  and  for  the  first  time  a  shadow  of  fear  and 
alarm  crept  over  them,  while  a  perceptible  anxiety 
for  the  arrival  of  the  company  grew  stronger  and 
stronger.  As  the  day  advanced  they  exerted  them 
selves  to  appear  calm,  and  watched  and  listened  for 
some  signal  of  the  company's  arrival.  But  as  night 
closed  in,  their  suspicions  took  the  form  of  positive 


IOO  A     WINTER   EVENING'S   TALE. 

fear,  and  there  was  no  mistaking  each  other's  views 
or  feelings.  That  something  had  befallen  the  com 
pany,  and  they  were  abandoned  to  their  fate,  was 
beyond  a  doubt.  They  were  destitute  of  food,  and 
had  no  means  of  procuring  any,  and,  beside,  a  long, 
dangerous  march  lay  before  them.  Something  must 
be  done  to  relieve  their  present  extremity  and  pro 
vide  them  with  subsistence  for  their  return  journey. 
What  could  be  done,  was  the  all  important  question 
for  them  to  decide.  Frenzied  with  disappointment, 
horrified  with  fear  of  starvation,  and  death  staring 
them  in  the  face,  what  should  they  do  ?  To  leave 
this  God-forsaken  place  and  live,  was  a  desire  which 
required  but  little  hesitation  to  become  a  law  of  ne 
cessity —  Dobbin  Grey  must  die  !  He  must  die  that 
they  might  live.  The  thought,  so  revolting  when 
first  suggested,  became  tempered  with  continued 
fasting,  and  aversion  gave  way  to  the  cravings  of  hun 
ger.  Poor  old  Dobbin,  their  faithful  friend  and  asso 
ciate,  was  sacrificed,  his  flesh  hung  over  their  camp- 
fire  to  smoke  and  dry.  Upon  this  they  must  subsist 
or  perish.  Preparations  for  their  return  trip  were  at 
once  completed,  and  with  reduced  baggage  they 
abandoned  these  realms  of  darkness  with  feelings 
of  gladness  and  relief. 

The  sun  had  disappeared  behind  the  long  row  of 
frozen  peaks,  and  the  evening  was  fast  closing  in 
upon  the  deep  caverns  which  lay  between  the  mount- 


SEEKING    WEALTH  UNDER  DIFFICULTIES.    IOI 

ains  of  snow  and  ice.  The  three  weary  pathfinders 
halted  and  prepared  their  camp  for  the  night.  Car 
ter  was  ill.  The  long,  tedious  journey  was  fast 
breaking  up  these  men  of  iron  constitutions.  The 
violent  exercise,  the  great  bodily  strain,  was  gradu 
ally  undermining  their  courage,  and  they  retired  for 
the  night  overwhelmed  with  the  difficulties  of  their 
situation.  It  was  the  evening  of  the  third  day. 
They  had  lost  the  trail  early  in  the  journey,  and  as 
yet  had  failed  to  find  it.  They  had  labored  all  day 
long  under  the  conviction  that  they  were  hopelessly 
lost  in  the  snow-beds  of  the  Sierras.  The  next  day 
they  followed  the  sun  in  its  course,  hoping  by  night 
to  retrieve  in  a  measure  the  error  so  unfortunately 
made.  Carter's  illness  continued,  and  they  felt 
alarmed  and  uneasy.  It  became  necessary  to  sup 
port  and  brace  him  up  to  his  work,  and  yet  in  the 
face  of  this  new  discouragment  they  moved  steadily 
along,  sad  but  hopeful.  The  scenes  which  had  but 
a  few  days  before  filled  them  with  enthusiasm,  were 
now  as  a  blighted  grave-yard,  and  in  every  summit 
they  saw  a  Banquo's  ghost  to  haunt  them  through 
their  dreary  march.  The  moaning  of  the  wind 
through  the  forest,  the  echo  of  their  voices  in  the 
mountain  glens,  which  were  to  them  such  sweet  and 
fairy-like  music,  now  became  the  mourner's  dirge 
and  the  harbingers  of  some  dreadful  visitation. 
The  fifth  day  brought  them  glad  tidings  and  great 


102  A    WINTER  EVENING 'S  .TALE. 

joy.  They  had  struck  the  trail,  but  were  so  ex 
hausted  that  they  could  scarcely  move  one  foot  be 
fore  the  other.  Carter's  condition  had  become  pain 
ful  and  dangerous.  Toward  night  he  declared  he 
could  go  no  farther.  He  was  hopelessly  used  up, 
and  neither  Graham  nor  Bradbury  could  do  any 
thing  to  induce  him  to  make  another  effort.  He 
begged  his  comrades  to  leave  him  and  push  on  the 
settlement  for  help.  "  Boys,"  said  he,  as  they  clasped 
each  other's  hands  in  this  painful  separation,  "  If 
you  have  strength,  push  on  till  you  find  the  com 
pany,  and  God  speed  you.  I  shall  look  for  you, 
Frank,  as  long  as  I  have  life.  If  I  am  gone  when 
you  return,  and  you  love  me,  carry  me  back  to  the 
Yuba  and  let  me  sleep  beneath  the  willow  behind 
the  cabin.  Take  this  watch  and  chain,  Frank ;  yes, 
and  this  ring,  too,  and  when  you  return  home,  go  to 
the  village  of  Kinderhook  and  find  my  poor  old 
mother.  Give  her  these,  Frank,  and  tell  her  —  tell 
her  "  —  He  could  not  finish  the  sentence,  but  plac 
ing  his  hands  over  his  eyes  burst  into  tears.  He 
was  rolled  up  carefully  in  his  blankets  and  laid  upon 
a  bed  of  spruce  and  cedars.  Each  man  stooped 
and  kissed  him,  and  said  with  difficulty  :  "  Good-by, 
Dave."  Bradbury  and  Graham  then  pushed  on  with 
increased  speed.  They  felt  sure  the  company  could 
not  be  far  from  where  they  were.  The  suspicion 
that  would  from  time  to  time  arise  in  their  feverish 


SEEKING    WEALTH  UNDER  DIFFICULTIES.    1 03 

minds,  that  perhaps  they  were  abandoned  and  left 
to  perish,  could  not  be  entertained  for  a  moment. 
It  was  an  injustice  to  men  like  Wallace,  Littlefield, 
and  Burns.  Darkness  was  closing  around  them. 
They  were  wet  through  and  benumbed  with  cold. 
Faint  and  exhausted  as  they  were,  they  were  still 
terribly  in  earnest  to  save  their  comrade's  life.  An 
exclamation  of  surprise  from  Bradbury,  who  had 
reached  the  summit  of  the  hill  in  advance  of  Gra 
ham,  was  followed  by  another  still  louder,  announc 
ing  a  bright  light  upon  an  elevation  in  the  direction 
where  the  camp  of  their  associates  was  most  likely 
to  be.  Yes,  this  was  surely  the  beacon-light  which 
the  company  had  built  to  tell  them  where  they  could 
be  found.  "  O  propitious  light !  O  friend  in  need  !  " 
burst  from  the  lips  of  these  men,  nearly  dead  with 
hunger  and  fatigue.  How  quickly  it  infused  new 
life  into  their  bodies  !  How  easily  were  the  difficul 
ties  hitherto  considered  insurmountable  disposed  of, 
and  victory  achieved !  Nothing  could  exceed  the 
genuineness  of  the  reception  which,  for  a  few  min 
utes,  overwhelmed  Bradbury  and  Graham  as  they 
were  discovered  by  the  company  hobbling  into  camp. 
But  when  informed  of  Carter's  condition  and  prob 
able  fate,  a  change  as  correspondingly  swift  and  sin 
cere  came  over  them,  and  the  camp  immediately  be 
came  the  scene  of  wild  excitement. 

Carter's  immediate  associates  were  deeply  affected, 


104  A    WINTER  EVENING'S   TALE. 

especially  Wallace,  who  refused  to  be  comforted, 
and  spent  the  balance  of  the  night  in  gloom  and 
silence.  Not  so  with  Littlefield  and  Burns  :  they 
kept  the  camp-fire  ablaze  and  filled  their  canteens 
with  hot,  nourishing  drinks ;  they  heated  blankets 
and  rolled  them  up  tightly ;  they  selected  warm 
clothing  to  cover  his  body,  dry  hose  and  easy  boots 
to  protect  his  feet ;  and  when  the  party  left  to  res 
cue  their  perishing  friend,  they  were  provided  with 
substantial  remedies  to  restore  him  to  life. 

The  pathfinders'  trail  was  easily  found  and  the 
party  followed  it  with  great  vigilance.  The  dark 
ened  hollows  and  sombre  passes  were  examined  foot 
by  foot.  Rifles  were  discharged  announcing  their 
near  approach.  Loud,  encouraging  shouts  rang  out 
from  hill-tops  and  caverns.  The  warm  rays  of  the 
sun  were  beginning  to  penetrate  the  dark  recesses 
of  the  mountain  passes  when  the  party  came  ab 
ruptly  upon  the  spot  where  Carter  lay.  They  saw 
his  couch  from  the  hill-side  as  they  went  swinging 
down  into  the  bottom,  and  were  so  startled  for  an 
instant  that  each  man  stood  in  his  tracks  as  it  were 
to  catch  his  breath.  Then  there  went  up  such  a 
hearty  cheer  that  the  sound  went  echoing  along 
through  the  neighboring  canons.  But  ere  the  sound 
had  left  their  lips,  they  bounded  down  the  hill  and 
with  one  impetuous  cry  of  joy  gathered  about  their 
silent  comrade.  But  alas,  they  were  too  late  ;  their 


SEEKING    WEALTH  UNDER  DIFFICULTIES,    1 05 

remedies  useless  ;  their  caresses  wasted.  Their 
friend  and  associate  was  dead.  There  he  lay,  the 
blankets  still  covering  his  body  and  his  heavy  winter 
blouse  wound  tightly  about  him.  His  head  was 
half  buried  in  the  snow,  and  his  hair  frozen  to  his 
face  and  ears.  A  thin  coating  of  ice  covered  his 
long,  full  beard,  and  his  fingers  were  woven  together 
under  his  chin.  His  body  was  packed  in  snow  and 
laid  upon  an  improvised  sled,  and  when  everything 
had  been  properly  arranged  the  cortege  returned  to 
camp. 

Carter  was  a  marked  man,  —  a  man  of  splendid 
physique,  pure  in  soul,  and  strong  in  Christian  faith, 
—  a  man  of  few  words,  dignified,  and  brave.  He 
was  the  accepted  head  of  the  company,  and  his  loss 
to  the  organization  was  irreparable.  The  influence 
he  exerted  and  the  peculiar  charm  he  possessed 
arose  partly  from  his  love  of  music.  His  full  rich 
voice  was  heard  at  the  opening  of  each  Sunday 
morn,  and  in  the  peaceful  calm  of  the  Sabbath  eve. 

"  God  moves  in  a  mysterious  way 

His  wonders  to  perform; 
He  plants  his  footsteps  in  the  sea, 
And  rides  upon  the  storm." 

How  this  beautiful  old  hymn  would  ring  out,  and 
every  heart  that  heard  it  seemed  touched  as  with  a 
coal  of  fire.  Lips  unwont  to  sing  yielded  to  its 
magic  power,  and  the  whole  camp  joined  in  the  song 
of  praise  to  God. 


106  A    WINTER  EVENING'S    TALE. 

A  formal  meeting  of  the  Graham  company  was 
called  to  take  such  action  as  might  seem  best  with 
reference  to  their  deceased  associate  and  friend.  It 
was  a  little  singular  that  this  meeting  should  have 
taken  place  on  the  first  anniversary  of  their  organi 
zation.  But  such  was  the  fact,  and  the  four  surviv 
ing  members  gathered  round  the  body  of  their  late 
comrade  and  reviewed  the  painful  calendar  of  the 
year  that  was  passed.  The  fatal  consequences  at 
tending  them  as  an  organization  was  feelingly  re 
ferred  to,  and  the  terrible  sufferings  which  had 
closed  the  life  of  their  esteemed  friend  were  keenly 
felt  and  bitterly  deplored.  Their  relations  to  the 
present  expedition  were  carefully  and  freely  dis 
cussed,  and  then  came  a  question  of  great  impor 
tance  to  them.  Under  existing  circumstances,  what 
were  to  be  their  relations  towards  each  other,  weak 
ened  as  they  were  in  numbers,  and  poor  in  purse  ? 
Up  to  this  time,  they  had  accomplished  but  little. 
All  they  possessed  in  the  world  had  been  invested 
in  the  success  or  failure  of  this  enterprise.  If  suc 
cessful,  the  achievement  was  too  grand  to  estimate, 
while  a  failure  would  be  but  a  check,  perhaps  a  de 
feat,  but  not  a  disaster.  Bradbury  and  Graham's 
report  of  what  they  saw,  and  what  they  did  not  see 
at  the  source  of  the  river  would  not,  it  was  said,  be 
accepted,  and  the  company  as  a  body  were  bound 
"  to  see  it  out."  Should  their  organization  continue 


SEEKING    WEALTH  UNDER  DIFFICULTIES.    IOJ 

distinct  in  the  future,  or  should  they  dissolve  and 
consolidate  with  the  other  company  ?  Wallace  ex 
pressed  a  desire  to  withdraw  from  the  company.  It 
was  his  purpose  to  abandon  the  mines,  and  seek  his 
fortune  in  the  marts  of  trade.  Graham  wished  to 
return  with  the  body  of  their  deceased  friend  to  the 
Roost,  and  stay  there  till  the  company  returned. 
The  Graham  company  was  accordingly  declared  dis 
banded.  Littlefield  and  Burns  joined  the  main  com 
pany,  and  Wallace  and  Graham  returned  to  the 
Yuba. 

David  Carter  was  buried  at  the  Roost  on  the 
banks  of  the  South  Yuba,  July  12,  1850.  His  re 
mains  were  not  deposited  under  the  willow  behind 
the  cabin,  as  he  had  requested,  because,  as  subse 
quent  events  proved,  they  would  not  have  been  safe. 
A  butt  of  a  hollow  pine,  with  the  ends  securely 
closed,  made  a  safe  and  enduring  burial  case.  His 
remains  were  placed  in  a  seam  in  the  bed-rock 
which  formed  the  base  of  Eagle  Mountain.  An 
oaken  slab,  rough  hewn,  with  the  inscription  burnt 
deeply  into  the  wood,  made  a  head-board,  which  was 
nailed  to  a  tree  over  his  grave.  This  completed 
their  last  duty,  and  to  this  tomb  of  solid  rock  they 
surrendered  the  body  of  their  dead  friend. 

Thirty  years  have  passed  since  Carter  died  on  the 
snow-clad  summits  of  the  Sierra  Nevadas  and  his 
dying  request  to  be  buried  at  the  Roost  was  faith- 


108  A    WINTER  EVENING'S   TALE., 

fully  fulfilled  ;  and  now  the  survivor  of  that  brave 
company  consecrates  these  imperfect  memoirs  to 
the  memory  of  the  hallowed  dead.  His  hair  has 
since  then  whitened  with  passing  years,  and  bodily 
infirmities  have  crept  in  with  the  lapse  of  time. 
Now,  with  his  declining  strengthand  the  ripening  of 
threescore  years  upon  him,  fond  memory  takes  him 
back  to  the  land  of  sunshine  and  flowers.  The 
scenes  of  other  days  rise  up  full  and  real,  and  from 
the  fullness  of  his  heart  he  weeps  over  and  sancti 
fies  the  graves  of  the  sacred  dead. 

The  expedition  returned  to  the  Roost  in  Septem 
ber,  broken  and  demoralized.  The  hidden  treasures 
—  if  there  were  any  —  were  buried  too  deep  to  be 
reached.  They  were  obliged  to  abandon  everything 
but  their  personal  effects,  and  the  mining  season  for 
that  year  closed,  forcing  them  into  winter  quarters 
poor  and  discouraged.  Ah,  gold,  thou  art  a  wily 
tempter,  bewitching  as  the  light  to  the  moth,  but 
dazzling  only  to  lead  astray  ! 


CHAPTER   IX. 

THE   RIPPLE   SPRING  HOUSE. 

Ripple  and  dance,  thou  sweet  little  stream, 
Laughing  so  sprightly  in  midsummer's  beam, 
With  fairy-like  music  and  sweet  pretty  song 
Entrancing  the  senses  the  whole  day  long,  — 
Dance  by  the  moonlight,  dance  in  thy  dream, 
Murmur  and  sparkle,  thou  beautiful  stream. 

Of  all  those  companions  that  drank  from  thy  rill 
As  they  sat  in  the  shade  on  the  moss-covered  hill, 
Not  one  now  remains  to  rejoin  me  again 
To  enroll  thee  in  song  or  rejoice  in  thy  fame : 
Enshrined  in  my  heart  is  thy  murmuring  song,  — 
Ah,  sing  little  songster,  forever  sing  on. 

How  oft  the  poor  emigrant,  overburdened  with  heat, 
Fell  down  from  exhaustion  and  slept  at  thy  feet, 
Quenched  his  deep  thirst,  and  rising  again, 
Pursued  his  long  journey,  o'er  mountain  and  plain ; 
Bubble  and  laugh,  thou  pure  little  spring, 
And  nourish  the  violets  that  bloom  on  thy  brim. 

THE  AUTHOR. 

IN  the  rough-and-tumble  days  of  '49  and  '50,  and 
perhaps  we  may  include  '51,  the  hotels,  so  called, 
which  dotted  the  different  roads  connecting  the 
marts  of  trade  with  the  mines  were  many  and  dis 
tinct.  They  were  rudely  constructed,  most  simply 
furnished,  and  grotesque  even  to  ugliness.  They 
were  patterned  after  every  age  and  style,  and  ranged 
from  a  low  bush  shanty  to  a  high  wall  tent  with  an 


IIO  A    WINTER  EVENING'S   TALE. 

awning.  All  sorts  of  devices  were  used,  and  every 
effort  made  to  extol  each  house  and  decoy  the 
"  weary  wayfarer  "  to  stop  and  dine.  Furniture  was 
unknown  at  the  wayside  inns  in  those  days,  and 
China  dishes  as  scarce  as  rain-drops  between  May 
and  November.  Every  man  carried  his  own  bed 
clothes  and  made  up  his  bed  where  night  overtook 
him.  If  his  means  were  exhausted  he  stretched 
himself  upon  the  ground  and  forgot  that  such  a 
luxury  as  a  rawhide  bunk  was  purchasable  so  near 
at  hand.  The  teamster,  freighting  goods  between 
the  city  of  Sacramento  and  Nevada,  or  points  above, 
selected  his  stopping-places  from  necessity  rather 
than  choice,  —  that  is,  he  would  give  his  preference 
to  that  house  which  would  best  equalize  the  day's 
labor  for  himself  and  animals.  On  his  return  trip, 
however,  he  often  remained  where  he  "loved  not 
wisely  but  too  well." 

The  Ripple  Spring  House  was  a  popular  place  of 
resort  to  the  great  carrying  trade  on  that  route,  and 
likewise  a  favorite  wayside  inn  for  the  casual  mule 
teer  as  well  as  the  wayfarer  in  general.  Built  upon 
a  slight  elevation  a  little  back  from  the  road,  and 
flanked  by  a  heavy  growth  of  timber,  it  held  a  com 
manding  view  of  the  great  thoroughfare  between 
the  city  of  Sacramento  and  the  central  northern 
mines.  In  style  the  building  was  a  little  in  advance 
of  the  times,  the  location,  perhaps,  giving  it  a  more 


THE  RIPPLE  SPRING  HOUSE.  Ill 

imposing  appearance.  But,  beyond  this,  it  was 
about  the  same  as  other  houses  claiming  to  be  first- 
class  wayside  inns.  Wooden  benches,  clumsy  tables, 
rudely  arranged  sleeping  apartments,  were  the  main 
features — improved  and  beautified  according  to  the 
mechanical  skill  and  taste  of  the  owner.  The  frame, 
with  a  pitch  roof,  was  light  and  delicate  but  sub 
stantially  braced.  Its  dimensions  were  about  forty 
by  sixty  feet,  and  the  roof  was  covered  with  heavy 
white  canvas.  The  spring  from  which  the  house 
derived  its  name  was  perpetual,  coming  out  from 
under  a  ledge  of  rocks  about  fifty  feet  above  the 
house,  and  flowing  down  a  deep  gully  till  it  was  lost 
in  the  woods. 

This  spring  of  water  the  proprietors  had  turned 
to  a  variety  of  uses,  each  of  which  was  in  itself  a 
positive  benefit  to  the  house.  By  a  very  simple  con 
trivance  a  portion  of  the  stream  was  forced  along 
the  hill-side  into  a  shallow  well,  under  a  shady  tree 
by  the  roadside,  the  overflow  passing  into  and 
through  another  underground  pipe  for  some  dis 
tance,  and  then  leaping  down  into  a  large  water 
ing  trough  in  front  of  the  hotel  door.  The  balance 
of  the  spring  was  conducted  into  the  house  by  sim 
ilar  means  and  utilized  for  special  purposes,  when 
the  whole,  uniting  again  at  the  foot  of  the  hill, 
flowed  into  a  large  basin  arranged  for  the  use  of 
cattle.  There  was,  therefore,  water  upon  the  hill- 


112  A    WINTER  EVENING'S   TALE. 

side  for  the  weary  emigrant,  there  was  water  for 
the  jaded  horse  and  mule,  and  water  in  abundance 
for  the  thirsty  ox  covered  with  dust  and  exhausted 
with  fatigue.  Thus  the  wayfarer,  resting  in  the 
sleepy  calmness  of  a  summer's  night,  listened  to  the 
rippling  songs  of  these  ever  busy  streams.  Every 
teamster,  therefore,  having  the  welfare  of  his  team 
at  heart,  harnessed  out  at  the  Ripple  Spring  House, 
for,  in  addition  to  the  superior  accommodations 
which  the  house  afforded,  he  felt  sure  of  assistance 
in  raising  the  "hump"  so  much  dreaded  by  every 
whip  upon  the  road. 

The  "  hump  "  so  called  was  the  sharp,  rugged  hill 
where  the  house  stood.  The  ascent  was  but  trivial, 
—  scarcely  three  hundred  feet,  a  mere  ant-hill  com 
pared  with  many  to  be  encountered.  But  its  steep 
ness  and  wretched  condition  was  what  made  its 
ascent  so  difficult  and  caused  such  a  corresponding 
dread. 

A  jaded  team,  then,  on  arriving  at  the  "hump" 
and  showing  signs  of  weakness,  would  scarcely  at 
tempt  the  ascent  alone,  but  would  wait  until  another 
came  up,  when  they  would  "  double  up,"  and  the 
two  "  snake  the  load  along  as  if  't  were  but  a  bale  o' 
hay.w  So  night  after  night  a  score  of  teams  might 
have  been  seen  here  harnessed  out  and  at  rest. 
There  one  might  have  seen  a  magnificent  six  mule 
team  with  bear-skin  collars  and  jingling  bells  ;  there, 


THE  RIPPLE  SPRING  HOUSE.  113 

also,  the  heavy  ox  team  with  their  broad,  handsome 
shoulders,  and  brass  tipped  and  polished  horns. 
Here  was  the  Buckeye  "gig"  with  its  quaint  top 
and  sweeping  sides,  and  yonder  the  Arkansas  "jig 
ger"  with  its  long  narrow  body  resting  high  in  the 
air,  resembling  a  bridge  on  wheels.  Take  it  all  to 
gether,  it  was  a  singularly  mixed  crowd  that  nightly 
gathered  about  the  Ripple  Spring  House  in  the  fall 
and  winter  of  '50  and  '51. 

About  the  middle  of  an  afternoon  in  October  a 
light  team  with  a  span  of  horses  drew  up  to  the 
watering-trough  before  the  hotel  door.  As  it  did 
so,  one  of  the  occupants  sprang  out  and  loosened 
the  check  reins,  and  at  the  same  moment  sang  out, 
in  a  somewhat  familiar  manner,  "  Halloo,  Graham, 
how  are  ye ! " 

A  young  man  responded  to  that  query  by  stepping 
quickly  from  under  the  awning,  and  with  a  smile  of 
recognition  playing  upon  his  face,  replied,  "  Why, 
Major  Winchester !  bless  me,  how  do  you  do?"  at 
the  same  time  extending  his  hand  to  his  old  friend 
and  wife,  and  then  to  the  boys. 

A  moment  later  Burns  and  Littlefield  came  for 
ward  and  gave  the  callers  a  cordial  welcome. 

"  No,  thank  ye,"  expostulated  the  Major,  "  we 
can't  get  out.  It  is  too  late,  and  we  must  get  home 
to-night.  We  are  ever  so  much  obliged  to  you,  but 
W2  can't  stop  to  tea." 

8 


114  A    WINTER  EVENING'S   TALE. 

"Well,  Littlefield,"  continued  the  Major,  in  a 
joking  sort  of  away,  "we  didn't  get  down  to  the 
dedication." 

"  So  it  seems,"  merrily  laughed  Tully.  "You  can 
never  know  how  much  you  were  missed,  Major,  or 
the  opportunity  lost  to  air  your  classical  talents." 

"  Invite  me  to  the  next  reopening,"  laughed  the 
Major,  "and  I  will  not  fail  to  respond." 

"You  have  a  nice  place  here,  Mr.  Burns,"  said 
Mrs.  Winchester,  interrupting  them. 

"  I  am  glad  you  like  it,"  answered  the  Doctor, 
raising  his  hat  with  a  polite  bow.  "  Thank  you  for 
the  compliment" 

"Why,  yes,  indeed;  quite  a  fashionable  affair,  I 
assure  you,"  suggested  the  Major's  son  with  a  broad 
grin  upon  his  face,  which  put  the  party  in  excellent 
spirits. 

"  Can't  say  I  like  that  flag  much,"  mused  the 
Major,  casting  his  eyes  up  to  a  wretchedly  poor  imi 
tation  of  the  Stars  and  Stripes  nailed  to  a  staff  on 
the  end  of  the  building. 

"  Cherish  the  principles  which  it  symbolizes,"  put 
in  Tully  ;  "we'll  have  a  better  one  by  the  time  you 
call  again." 

"I  don't  see  that  bay-window,  Graham,  your  letter 
pictured  so  wonderfully,"  said  Mrs.  Winchester,  re 
proachfully. 

"Very  true,"  replied   Frank.     "I  am  sorry,  but 


THE  RIPPLE  SPRING  HOUSE.  115 

the  omission  has  been  compromised  by  enlarging 
the  doors." 

At  this  retort  the  group  settled  into  a  prolonged 
laugh. 

"  Yes,  mother,"  broke  in  the  Major,  his  face  still 
red  with  excitement ;  "  I  have  been  looking  about 
also  for  that  balcony." 

"Well,"  replied  Graham,  assuming  an  air  of  in 
jured  dignity,  "that  article  was  left  out  purely  by 
mutual  consent ;  the  edifice  being  considered  so 
imposing  —  so  far  in  advance  of  the  civilized  condi 
tion  of  the  country  —  that  to  add  such  embellish 
ments  was,  to  say  the  least,  imprudent  if  not  dan 
gerous.  Such  fears  as  mistaking  it  for  a  monastery 
by  the  many  wandering  monks,  and  its  legitimate 
purposes  assailed  if  not  subverted,  has  been  regarded 
by  us  as  neither  inconsistent  nor  entirely  to  be 
ignored." 

"Well  done,  Graham,"  broke  in  the  Major,  clap 
ping  his  hands,  in  which  the  whole  party  joined. 
"Well,  boys,  I  hope  you  will  do  well  here,"  added 
the  Major  sincerely;  "you  have  started  right,  and 
we  often  hear  good  reports  of  you  up  at  the  Creek." 

"  What  have  you  done  with  the  upper  part  of  your 
house,  Mr.  Graham  ?  "  asked  Mrs.  Winchester,  who 
enjoyed  this  refreshing  scene,  and  seemed  reluctant 
to  lose  the  opportunity  to  put  in  a  pun. 

"  I  am  only  one  third  to  blame  for  the  concessions 


Il6  A    WINTER  EVENING'S   TALE. 

made  to  the  architect  and  builder  of  this  establish 
ment,"  replied  Frank,  with  a  mischievous  look  in  his 
eye,  pointing  his  thumb  over  his  shoulder  at  his  two 
chums.  "  On  matters  of  such  importance  we  have 
always  been  unanimous.  We  listened  in  this  case 
to  superior  minds,  and  frankly  accepted  the  builder  s 
advice  to  allow  the  upper  story  of  the  structure  to 
remain  unfinished.  As  yet  there  have  been  no  calls 
for  suites  of  rooms,  and  the  times  are  not  sufficiently 
ripe,  they  thought,  for  summer  boarders,  they  would 
wait." 

"The  furniture,  I  suppose,  corresponds  in  every 
respect  with  the  general  make-up,"  sarcastically  sug 
gested  the  Major  as  he  gathered  up  the  reins  and 
reached  forward  after  his  whip. 

"  Oh,  yes,"  answered  Tully  ;  "every  article  is  en 
tirely  new." 

"  Made  to  order,  of  course,"  said  Mrs.  Winchester, 
unable  to  restrain  her  mirth. 

"  Certainly,"  answered  Burns  with  a  laugh  ; 
"  every  piece  is  original  and  the  patterns  destroyed." 

"  Profusely  ornamental,"  chimed  in  the  Major's 
son,  giggling  as  he  lit  his  cigar." 

"  Yes,  Dan,"  retorted  Graham,  "  quite  so,  and 
although  free  from  the  gaudy  tinsels  too  often  seen 
among  flashy  hotels  and  cheap  restaurants,  they 
have  already  attracted  so  much  attention  as  to  give 
them  a  wor'd-wide  reputation." 


THE  RIPPLE  SPRING  HOUSE.  I  1 7 

"  Drive  on,  father;"  said  Mrs.  Winchester,  laugh 
ing  immoderately.  "  Ah,  Graham,  you  are  as  subtle 
as  a  parish  priest.  Let  us  hope  you  will  plead  be 
fore,  and  not  from  behind  a  bar,  at  no  distant  day." 

"  I'll  take  that  scarf,  Frank,"  said  Dan,  the  Ma 
jor's  son,  pleadingly  ;  "give  it  to  me  as  a  souvenir 
which  shall  signify  that  with  all  my  faults  you  love 
me  still." 

"  I  would  do  that  in  a  moment,  Dan,  but  for  one 
thing,"  answered  Graham,  "it  is  a  keepsake  from  my 
sister  Mary." 

"  So  much  the  better,"  suggested  Dan,  trying  to 
reach  the  article,  twisted  loosely  about  Graham's 
neck. 

"  Give  me  the  scarf,  Frank,  and  I  '11  marry  Mary, 
and  so  keep  the  heirloom  still  in  the  family." 

"  All  right,  brother-in-law,"  replied  Graham  ; 
"  take  it."  And  the  team  drove  off  amid  cheers  and 
good-byes. 

Two  hours  later  the  loaded  teams  began  to  gather 
in  and  about  the  Ripple  Spring  House,  and  the 
usual  stir  and  bustle  accompanied  the  preparations 
for  supper.  Hungry  animals  were  watered  and  fed, 
camp-fires  lighted,  and  blankets  spread  for  the  night. 
The  usual  busy  scenes  were  witnessed  that  night 
as  they  had  been  on  many  previous  evenings.  It 
had  got  to  be  about  ten  o'clock  when  the  last  guest 
retired  to  his  bunk.  The  curtained  door  was  dropped, 


Il8  A    WINTER  EVENING'S   TALE. 

the  side  lights  put  out,  and  the  house  declared  closed 
for  the  night.  The  large  lantern  was  still  burning 
in  the  reception  room,  and  a  small  bracket  lamp 
burnt  dimly  over  the  dining-room  door.  The  pro 
prietors  were  seated  in  the  cook-room.  All  at  once 
footsteps  were  heard  approaching  the  house  from 
the  direction  of  the  hill,  and  shortly  after  a  voice 
was  heard  to  cry  :  "  Ho  there,  landlord  !  " 

Littlefield  answered  the  call.  "  You  are  late,  gen 
tlemen,"  remarked  Tully,  as  the  two  wayfarers 
walked  in  and  seated  themselves  upon  some  bags  of 
grain. 

"  You  are  right,  landlord,"  replied  the  first  speaker. 
"  It  is  rather  late,  but  not  too  late,  I  hope,  for  a 
night's  lodgings  and  a  bite  of  something  to  eat." 

"  Oh,  no  ;  I  believe  there  is  one  more  section  left. 
The  supper,  however,  I  must  ask  you  to  take  with  a 
grain  of  salt." 

"  Call  it  a  glass  of  brandy  and  water,  landlord," 
put  in  the  other  speaker,  "  and  we  '11  accept  your 
terms." 

"  All  right,  sir,"  replied  Littlefield,  as  he  placed 
the  tumblers  and  decanter  containing  the  article 
called  for  before  them.  "  Now,  gentlemen,"  con 
tinued  Tully,  as  his  eyes  followed  the  tumblers  of 
raw  liquor  to  the  lips  of  his  guests,  "  register  your 
names,  please,  and  I  will  attend  to  preparing  your 
supper." 


THE  RIPPLE  SPRING  HOUSE.  ng 

"  Let  us  have  the  supper,  landlord,  and  dispense 
with  the  registering,"  sharply  broke  in  the  first 
speaker.  "  There  seems  no  occasion  for  it  here,  at 
least." 

"  The  country  where  you  are  from,"  retorted  Lit- 
tlefield,  "would  regard  such  refusals  with  just  sus 
picion." 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  landlord,"  hastily  broke  in 
the  second  speaker,  determined  to  support  his  friend  ; 
"  you  are  a  little  off  your  base.  It  is  not  even  a 
compulsory  measure  there.  It  has  been  adopted 
simply  as  a  mark  of  courtesy  to  the  guest,  and  in 
troduced  as  a  system  by  the  proprietors." 

"  We  make  it  compulsory  here,  sir,"  answered 
Littlefield,  "  and  enforce  it.  You  can  do  just  as  you 
choose,"  continued  Tully  ;  "register  your  names  or 
seek  some  other  accommodations." 

The  two  men  looked  sharply  into  each  other's 
eyes  for  a  moment,  and  then  going  forward  signed 
their  names.  The  first  man  that  signed  his  name 
uncovered  an  injured  hand,  which  was  wrapped  up 
in  a  peculiar  figured  scarf  saturated  with  blood. 
As  he  laid  the  pen  down,  he  cast  a  quick,  scornful 
look  into  the  face  of  Littlefield,  and  expressed  his 
regrets  for  his  inability  to  make  the  signature  more 
distinct  and  natural.  The  second  signer  dashed  off 
his  name  and  took  a  seat,  remarking,  sneeringly, 
that  nothing  equaled  a  one-horse  hotel-keeper  for 
bombast  and  conceited  arrogance. 


120  A    WINTER  EVENINGS   TALE. 

Burns  and  Graham  remained  within  the  cook- 
room,  attentive  listeners.  There  was  nothing  in 
particular  about  these  men  to  have  attracted  much 
attention  had  they  applied  for  accommodations  in 
seasonable  hours.  It  is  true  their  manners  were 
rude  and  insulting  ;  perhaps  that  fed  a  natural  dis 
trust  which  the  lateness  of  the  hour  created.  But 
otherwise  they  were  genteel  in  appearance,  quite  af 
fable,  and  dressed  in  the  usual  miner's  garb.  They 
had,  they  said,  been  drinking  heavily,  which  seemed 
to  account  for  the  scratches  on  their  faces,  and  the 
filthy  condition  of  their  hair  and  clothes.  But,  on 
the  whole,  Tully  Littlefield  had  become  alarmed, 
and  his  large  blue  eyes  never  for  a  moment  left 
them.  The  sight  of  the  scarf,  so  innocently  ex 
posed,  wrapped  about  the  wounded  hand  still  drip 
ping  with  blood,  added  to  the  distrust  which  their 
appearance  had  from  the  beginning  produced,  and 
now  his  fears  were  awakened,  and  dark  suspicions 
filled  his  mind. 

Littlefield,  suppressing  his  feelings,  accompanied 
his  guests  into  the  dining-room,  and  carelessly  lean 
ing  against  the  cook-room  door,  keenly  watched  the 
faces  of  his  associates  for  such  evidence  as  would 
either  dispel  his  doubts  or  confirm  his  fears.  Burns 
passed  in  with  a  dish  of  sliced  ham  and  a  platter  of 
biscuits.  The  hand  with  the  crimson  bandage  was 
raised.  The  Doctor  glanced  from  the  hand  into  the 


THE  RIPPLE  SPRING  HOUSE.  121 

face  and  eyes  of  its  owner,  then  at  the  hand  again, 
and  drawing  a  long  breath  withdrew  to  the  side 
board.  He  had  observed  the  bleeding  hand,  but  had 
failed  to  recognize  the  scarf.  Not  so  with  Graham. 
The  moment  the  injured  hand  was  raised  his  coun 
tenance  underwent  a  change.  It  no  longer  wore  an 
expression  of  cold  indifference,  but  became  pale  and 
excited.  For  a  while  his  gaze  fastened  upon  the 
scarf  wound  tightly  about  the  bleeding  hand,  and 
then  removed  them  only  to  fix  it  upon  the  wearer's 
face  ;  then,  for  a  few  seconds,  he  turned  his  head 
aside  in  a  sort  of  painful  reverie,  and  finally  looked 
full  into  the  anxious  face  of  Tully  Littlefield.  The 
look,  the  instant  interchange  of  thought  between 
these  two,  was  mutual.  The  expression  of  one 
seemed  to  say  to  the  other,  Do  you  recognize  your 
scarf  ?  —  while  the  other  seemed  to  reply,  Yes,  and 
it  must  be  regained. 

Frank  Graham  had  made  a  discovery,  —  a  dis 
covery  beyond  the  recognition  of  his  scarf, —  a  dis 
covery,  which,  if  his  suspicions  were  correct,  might 
involve  him  in  difficulties  which  would  test  bis 
friendship  to  the  core.  This  discovery,  so  singu 
lar,  so  inauspicious  as  to  cause  a  chill  to  run  through 
him,  was  that  the  wounded  man  was  the  brother  of 
his  affianced  wife,  Philip  Rugby,  of  Rugby  Farm. 
He  must  keep  his  discovery  to  himself,  and  for  the 
moment  deal  only  with  the  wounded  hand  which 


122  A    WINTER  EVENING'S   TALE. 

had  brought  within  their  house  such  dark  forebod 
ings  of  evil. 

"  Can  I  assist  you,  sir,"  inquired  Graham,  with  a 
voice  somewhat  agitated. 

"Well,  no,  my  friend  —  I  believe  not  —  unless 
you  can  stop  this  hand  from  bleeding." 

"  I  will  dress  it  for  you  after  supper,  sir,  and  wash 
out  the  bandage,  too,  if  you  would  like  to  have 
me." 

"  Thank  you,  I  shall  be  only  too  glad  to  accept 
your  services." 

There  was  a  deep  cut  across  the  palm  of  the  hand, 
which  would  leave  a  scar  and  three  disabled  fingers. 
Not  a  question  was  asked  by  either  party  —  but  each 
sat  silent  while  the  operation  was  being  performed, 
and  were  only  too  glad  when  it  was  finished.  Gra 
ham  seized  the  scarf  and  rolling  it  carelessly  up  laid 
it  in  the  basin  of  water  and  started  for  the  cook- 
room.  The  pleasure  he  experienced  at  having  se 
cured  the  scarf,  which  was  the  key  to  the  solution 
of  the  whole  mystery,  was  apparent  at  least  to  Lit- 
tlefield,  if  not  to  Doctor  Burns. 

"  If  that  slug,  young  man,  will  convince  you  of 
our  ]asting  obligations,"  remarked  the  wounded 
man's  friend,  "take  it;"  and  he  tossed  a  fifty  dollar 
gold  piece  upon  the  table. 

"  Nothing  could  induce  me,  sir,  to  take  your 
money,"  answered  Graham,  firmly.  "I  have  done  no 


THE  RIPPLE  SPRING  HOUSE.        123 

more  for  your  friend  than  what  either  of  you  would 
gladly  do  for  me." 

A  pause  of  some  seconds  ensued,  when  the  guests 
arose,  and  turning  upon  their  heels,  bowed  politely, 
and  said,  "  Good-night." 

When  Burns  returned,  after  seeing  these  men  to 
their  beds,  he  found  Littlefielcl  and  Graham  engaged 
in  earnest  conversation.  They  had  examined  the 
scarf,  and  found,  as  Graham  had  predicted,  the  ini 
tials  of  his  name  embroidered  on  one  end,  and  those 
of  his  sister  on  the  other.  When  last  seen,  this 
scarf  was  tied  about  the  neck  of  Daniel  Winches 
ter.  Within  a  few  hours  it  had  come  back  to  the 
giver  under  suspicious  circumstances  and  saturated 
with  blood.  The  signatures  of  these  men,  then, 
were  unquestionably  assumed,  their  manners  a 
sham,  their  assertions  false.  The  circumstances 
told  strongly  against  them,  and  the  proprietors  were 
quite  alarmed  for  the  safety  of  the  Winchester  fam 
ily.  That  the  Major  had  been  violently  handled, 
possibly  robbed  and  murdered,  by  the  very  men  who 
had  taken  refuge  within  their  door,  was  possible  if 
not  probable.  The  situation  was,  indeed,  embar 
rassing.  What  should  they  do  in  the  premises.? 
To  detain  these  men  until  the  Major's  safety  could 
be  assured  was  their  duty,  their  purpose,  and  their 
determination.  It  was  considered  advisable  to  take 
into  their  counsel  two  responsible  teamsters  who 


124  A    WINTER   EVENINGS    TALE. 

had  patronized  their  house  since  its  completion.  It 
would  seem  better  for  all  concerned,  they  thought, 
to  add  to  their  own  two  unprejudiced  minds  and 
two  impartial  judgments. 

The  mysterious  wayfarers,  who  had  retired  the 
night  before  apparently  unconscious  of  approaching 
danger,  were  startled,  on  opening  their  eyes  in  the 
early  dawn,  to  find  themselves  surrounded  by  a 
posse  of  armed  men.  Neither  spoke,  but  spring 
ing  up  in  their  bunks  fastened  their  eyes  upon  their 
jailers  with  an  expression  of  sudden  fear  and  alarm. 

"  Gentlemen,"  began  Littlefield,  in  a  singularly 
steady  voice,  "we  mean  you  no  harm,  but  we  have 
business  with  you." 

"Well,  sir,  what  is  it?"  calmly  inquired  the  man 
with  the  wounded  hand. 

"You  are  suspected  of  murder  and  robbery,"  con 
tinued  Littlefield;  "and  you  must  now  consider 
yourselves  under  arrest." 

"  Murder  and  robbery  !  "  echoed  the  man.  "  What 
an  absurdity ! " 

"  Why  did  n't  you  perform  this  duty  before  we  re 
tired  ? "  suggested  his  friend,  warmly,  with  a  con 
temptuous  smile  playing  about  his  mouth. 

"  Because  we  had  not  sufficient  evidence  of  your 
guilt  then,  sir,"  quietly  responded  Littlefield. 

"Then  we  are  to  understand  you  possess  that 
proof  this  morning.  Is  it  so  ? " 


THE  RIPPLE  SPRING  HOUSE.  12$ 

"Yes,  we  have  what  we  consider  sufficient  rea 
sons  to  detain  you." 

"  Let  us  see  this  damning  proof,"  he  demanded, 
in  an  insolent  manner.  Littlefield  held  out  the 
bloody  scarf.  "  Why,  sir,  that  belongs  to  me.  It  is 
the  bandage  left  in  your  care  to  be  washed." 

"A  most  wonderful  discovery  !  "  ironically  laughed 
his  friend.  "  Do  they  hang  men  here  for  being  the 
owners  of  twenty-five-cent  neckties  ? " 

Both  men  laughed  heartily,  and  turning  upon  the 
group,  said  in  the  most  approved  style  :  "  Gentlemen, 
we  are  very  sorry  this  dirty  rag  should  cause  such  a 
sea  of  trouble.  The  tragedy  so  auspiciously  opened 
has,  it  would  seem,  fizzled  into  a  comedy  of  errors. 
If  the  performance  has  not  multiplied  your  assets, 
the  fault  rests  with  the  managers,  not  with  the  act 
ors." 

"  All 's  well  that  ends  well,"  remarked  Tully,  with 
a  significant  nod  of  the  head.  "  Will  you  please  tell 
us,"  he  resumed,  "  how  you  came  by  this  '  dirty  rag/ 
as  you  are  pleased  to  call  it  ? " 

"  Certainly.  It  is  a  part  of  my  wardrobe.  I  don't 
recollect  just  where  or  when  I  bought  it  —  that  is 
of  little  consequence  to  you ;  but  I  have  owned  it 
for  years." 

"  Then  you  ought  to  be  able  to  tell  what  initials 
are  worked  on  it  and  what  they  stand  for." 

"  Well,  I  am  not  quite  sure  about  that,"  he  said, 
for  the  first  time  disconcerted  and  embarrassed. 


126  A    WINTER  EVENINGS   TALE. 

"  Are  you  prepared  to  admit  or  deny  that  there 
are  any  such  characters  on  it  ?  " 

"  No,  I  am  not,  for  the  whole  subject,  to  my  mind, 
is  too  preposterous  for  a  second  consideration." 

"  Well,  now,  gentlemen,"  resumed  Littlefield,  "  one 
word  more,  and  then  I  have  done.  This  scarf  be 
longed  to  one  of  the  proprietors  of  this  house.  It 
was  given  to  and  worn  away  by  a  friend  of  ours  yes 
terday  afternoon.  It  came  back  to  us  last  night 
wrapped  about  your  bleeding  hand,  and  we  are 
bound  to  know  just  how  it  came  into  your  posses 
sion.  We  shall  detain  you  here  until  the  safety  of 
our  friends  is  assured.  If  they  reached  their  home 
unmolested  all  will  have  an  opportunity  to  rejoice. 
But  if  they  have  been  foully  dealt  with,  this  '  dirty 
rag,'  in  my  judgment,  will  be  the  strongest  evidence 
of  your  guilt." 

All  through  the  investigation  the  faces  of  these 
men  wore  an  expresssion  of  deep  hatred  and  defi 
ance.  They  treated  every  question  with  derision, 
and  allowed  no  opportunity  to  escape  to  ridicule  the 
opinions  of  their  accusers.  In  this  spirit  of  assumed 
indifference,  they  laid  back  in  their  bunks,  and  turn 
ing  over  on  their  sides,  muttered  something  about 
being  woke  up  when  "  Birnam  woods  shall  come  to 
Dunsinane." 

One  hour  after  this  interview  occurred,  Tully  Lit 
tlefield  mounted  his  horse  and  galloped  away  to  Deer 


THE  RIPPLE  SPRING  HOUSE.  I2/ 

Creek.  He  found  the  Major's  dwelling  surrounded 
by  a  body  of  men  who  were  engaged  in  earnest  con 
versation,  and  in  a  few  minutes  was  in  full  posses 
sion  of  the  main  facts.  The  Major  had  been  waylaid, 
dragged  from  his  team,  "  beaten  almost  to  death," 
and  robbed  ;  and  his  son,  in  his  efforts  to  save  his 
father,  had  been  pounded  and  thrown  down  an  em 
bankment,  and  little  hopes  were  entertained  of  their 
recovery. 

A  meeting  was  at  once  called,  at  which  Littlefield 
told  them  of  the  arrest  of  the  guilty  parties  and  the 
circumstances  which  led  to  their  detection.  It  was 
decided  that  the  prisoners  should  be  brought  back 
to  Deer  Creek  for  trial,  and  twelve  men  were  ap 
pointed  a  committee  to  conduct  the  prisoners  hither. 

A  change  came  over  the  prisoners  when  they  were 
told  to  prepare  themselves  for  removal  to  Deer 
Creek.  But  a  still  greater  change  was  witnessed 
when  they  were  brought  out  in  front  of  the  hotel 
and  formally  given  into  the  charge  of  the  committee. 
Poor  fellows  !  what  a  contrast !  How  sad,  how  piti 
ful  they  looked  as  they  climbed  into  the  wagon  and 
took  their  seats  in  the  centre  of  the  guard.  What 
can  move  our  sympathies  quicker  than  a  man  over 
whelmed  with  trouble,  no  matter  what  his  crime. 
If  his  life  be  demanded  for  the  public  good,  and  the 
demand  be  sanctioned  and  enforced  by  the  courts  of 
justice,  there  comes  up,  nevertheless,  out  of  the 


128  A    WINTER  EVENING'S   TALE. 

human  heart  a  compassion  which,  in  spite  of  us, 
pleads  for  mercy.  If  our  sympathies  are  moved  for 
a  criminal  who  has  had  a  fair  and  impartial  trial  in 
a  civilized  country,  and  allowed,  after  sentence, 
proper  time  to  meet  his  death,  how  much  more  are 
our  sensibilities  quickened  when  a  man  falls  into 
the  hands  of  a  frenzied  mob,  and  in  defiance  of  law 
or  order  is  dragged  to  a  place  of  execution  and 
hurled  into  eternity  without  an  opportunity  to  ask 
God  to  forgive  him.  The  thirst  for  blood,  the  cry 
for  vengeance,  the  heated  passions  of  men  deaf  to 
pity  and  blind  to  justice,  rushing  like  a  mad  torrent 
sweeping  before  its  furious  breath  the  agonizing 
cries  for  mercy,  if  once  seen  will  never  be  forgotten. 

While  the  unfortunate  men  were  passing  through 
the  mining  camps  en  route  to  Deer  Creek,  they  were 
met  by  angry  miners  who  hooted  and  yelled  at  them, 
and  at  times  it  seemed  as  though  they  would  be 
taken  from  the  wagon  and  hung  upon  the  nearest 
tree.  As  they  neared  their  destination  the  crowd 
gathered  about  the  team,  and  the  noise  and  confu 
sion  increased  as  they  approached  the  Major's  cabin. 
When  they  had  reached  their  destination  the  pris 
oners  were  taken  from  the  wagon  and  seated  upon 
the  stump  of  a  fallen  tree,  the  twelve  guardsmen 
standing  in  a  half  circle  about  them,  and  the  specta 
tors  forming  a  ring  around  the  little  company. 

The  trial  of  these  two  men  took  place  on  the  Sab- 


THE  RIPPLE  SPRING  HOUSE.  I2Q 

bath  day  —  a  day  sacred  to  the  memory  of  Him 
who  died  that  all  might  live.  No  tone  of  the  church 
bell  was  heard,  neither  was  the  soothing  influence 
of  the  house  of  prayer  felt.  Their  pastor's  tender 
ness  and  the  holy  piety  —  at  that  moment  so  much 
needed  —  was  forgotten  in  the  excitement  of  the 
hour.  The  sun  was  sinking  behind  the  belts  of 
heavy  timber  as  a  man  from  the  crowd  stepped  for 
ward  and  said :  "  Gentlemen,  please  to  nominate 
your  judge."  "  You  '11  do,  Baxter  ;  you  're  just  the 
man  ; "  cried  out  a  number  of  voices,  which  nomi 
nation  the  meeting  indorsed  and  Thomas  Baxter  was 
declared  the  judge  and  the  noisy  gathering  the  jury. 
The  disposition  to  shorten  the  trial  and  hang  their 
men  before  dark  was  common  to  every  one.  "  Put 
'em  through,  judge,"  came  up  over  the  boisterous 
crowd  from  a  backwoodsman  leaning  upon  his  rifle. 
"  Got  the  tree  already  picked  out,"  sang  out  a  sav 
age-looking  fellow  with  a  brace  of  pistols  tucked  in 
side  his  belt.  "Jest  sling  'em  into  Murphy's  pit," 
suggested  a  tall,  round-shouldered  man,  rolling  up 
his  sleeves.  "  Darn  yer  trials." 

At  this  moment  the  judge  arose  and  asked  the 
prisoners  to  stand  up  ;  then  facing  his  listeners  he 
said  :  "  Gentlemen,  I  am  the  judge  in  this  case,  and 
you  are  the  jury.  I  propose  giving  these  men  a 
Christian  trial."  "  Hear,  hear  !  "  was  shouted  from 
various  parts  of  the  ring.  "When  that  trial  is 
9 


130  A    WINTER  EVENING'S -TALE. 

ended,  and  you  pronounce  them  guilty,  they  will  be 
sentenced  to  death  —  not  before."  This  last  sen 
tence  was  greeted  with  loud  shouts  of  angry  dis 
pleasure,  mingled  with  threats  of  violence  to  the 
presiding  justice. 

"  Prisoners,"  said  the  judge,  "have  you  any  friends 
here?" 

"No,  sir." 

"  Have  you  any  acquaintances  that  you  would  like 
to  speak  with  ? " 

"No,  sir." 

"  Do  you  see  any  one  here  that  you  would  like  to 
have  act  as  your  counsel  and  friend  ? " 

"  Well  —  no,  sir.  We  are  deeply  grateful  to  you, 
but  we  have  no  friends." 

"Is  there  any  one  here  who  will  volunteer  his 
services,"  again  asked  the  justice. 

A  painful  silence  ensued,  which  lasted  for  several 
seconds.  At  length  a  man  stepped  into  the  ring, 
and  removing  his  hat,  bowed  politely  to  the  judge. 
Every  eye  was  upon  him ;  the  prisoners  looked  at 
him  intently  and  fixedly.  A  murmur  of  dissatisfac 
tion  was  partially  checked  by  admiring  cheers. 

"  Step  this  way,  sir,"  said  his  honor.  "  What  is 
your  name  ? " 

"Frank  Graham,  sir." 

As  this  name  passed  from  his  lips,  one  of  the 
prisoners  sprang  to  his  feet,  and  ran  his  fingers 


THE  RIPPLE  SPRING  HOUSE.  131 

strangely  through  his  hair.  He  seemed  to  be  greatly 
agitated,  and  soon  big  tears  began  to  follow  each 
other  down  his  cheeks. 

"  Mr.  Graham,"  said  the  judge,  "you  can  converse 
with  the  prisoners  and  render  them  whatever  aid 
you  wish." 

Graham  beckoned  the  weeping  prisoner  towards 
him,  and  speaking  in  a  tone  intended  for  him  only, 
said :  "  If  you  value  your  life,  Philip,  let  no  man 
suspect  that  we  ever  met  before."  The  prisoners 
and  their  friend  now  walked  towards  the  centre  of 
the  ring  and  consulted  together  for  some  time.  He 
assured  them  it  was  madness  to  dispute  the  evidence 
of  their  guilt.  He  believed  there  were  some  sym 
pathizers  in  the  crowd  who  would  be  satisfied  with 
a  less  punishment  than  death.  He  urged  them  to 
make  a  manly  confession,  restore  to  the  injured 
family  their  money,  put  themselves  into  the  hands 
of  the  people,  and  ask  for  mercy.  For  himself,  he 
promised  to  do  all  in  his  power  to  save  them ;  but, 
failing  in  this,  he  pledged  them  eternal  secrecy. 
No  one  should  ever  know  of  their  ignominious 
death.  This  the  prisoners  assented  to  cheerfully, 
and  a  message  to  that  effect  was  sent  to  the  Win 
chester  family.  The  prisoners  now  resumed  their 
seats,  and  Graham  addressed  the  judge  and  the  peo 
ple.  He  made  a  long  and  earnest  plea,  covering 
the  whole  case.  He  said  :  "  The  prisoners  have 


132  A    WINTER  EVENING'S   TALE. 

confessed  their  guilt "  [uproarious  applause  from  the 
crowd  with  cries  of  "  Pass  'em  out,  judge,"  "  No  more 
chin  music!"  and  so  on],  "and  the  trial,  which  prom 
ised  to  be  long  and  tedious,  had  terminated  to  the 
satisfaction  of  all.  The  lives  of  these  two  men  rest 
entirely  in  your  hands.  Before  sentence  is  pro-  . 
nounced,  I  desire  of  your  honor  but  one  favor  for 
these  unfortunate  men.  It  is  that  the  question  of 
life  or  death  shall  be  decided  by  the  vote  of  the 
people  present.  If  the  majority  demand  that  these 
men  shall  be  hung,  let  them  be  given  up  cheerfully. 
If,  on  the  contrary,  the  majority  prefer  a  milder 
punishment,  let  them  be  so  punished  ;  but  whatever 
punishment  these  Christian  gentlemen  may  decide 
to  inflict,  I  ask  your  honor  that  it  be  postponed  until 
to-morrow  morning.  On  this  peaceful  Sabbath  eve 
let  no  man  say  Nay.  Give  these  poor,  friendless 
men  the  few  remaining  hours  to  prepare  themselves 
for  their  impending  doom.  These  prisoners  have 
confessed  their  guilt,  and  have  begged  me  to  soften 
your  hearts  and  make  one  earnest  appeal  for  mercy. 
For  himself,"  he  said,  "he  had  come  to  convict  and 
demand  death  ;  but  the  condition  of  things  were 
changed  for  the  better,  and  he  was  glad  for  the  priv 
ilege  to  hold  up  both  hands  for  mercy.  The  par 
ties,"  he  said,  "  who  had  the  greatest  reason  to  com 
plain  had  been  pronounced  out  of  danger  and  would 
recover.  The  family  who  had  been  so  afflicted  by 


THE  RUMPLE  SPRING  HOUSE.  133 

these  erring  men  sought  not  their  lives.  He  was 
glad  to  inform  them  that  the  prisoners  had  returned 
the  money,  made  all  the  atonement  possible,  and 
had  received  their  forgivenness.  His  heart  had  been 
so  touched,  his  sympathies  so  moved  by  the  utter 
hopelessness  of  the  prisoners'  condition,  that  he 
could  not  regret  the  step  he  had  taken.  He  be 
lieved  he  was  but  carrying  out  the  true  spirit  of 
divine  law,  when  he  asked  all  present  to  be  charita 
ble  to  those  who  were  led  into  temptation,  and  show 
mercy  to  all  that  trespass  against  us.  He  hoped 
the  people  would  do  nothing  which  would  tarnish 
the  good  name  of  their  settlement,  but  close  this 
holy  Sabbath  day  by  extending  to  these  men  the 
mercy  accorded  by  all  high-minded  courts  and  con 
scientious  juries." 

A  great  commotion  followed  the  concluding  re 
marks,  in  which  the  vilest  epithets  were  used  against 
the  prisoners  and  their  friend.  At  length  the  meet 
ing  was  called  to  order,  and,  to  the  disgust  of  the 
rabble,  the  justice  ordered  that  all  those  in  favor  of 
the  prisoners  being  hung  should  move  to  the  left,  and 
those  in  favor  of  flogging  should  pass  to  the  right. 
The  excitement  which  prevailed  during  the  division 
of  the  crowd,  —  the  taunts  and  jeers  of  the  left 
against  the  right,  the  exulting  applause  which  came 
from  the  left  over  their  excess  of  numbers,  —  was  one 
of  the  most  distressing  scenes  ever  witnessed.  "The 


134  A    WINTER  EVENING'S   TALE. 

right,"  said  the  judge,  when  order  had  been  restored, 
and  amid  a  breathless  silence,  "  has  seventy-two  and 
the  left  eighty-eight,  a  majority  of  sixteen  in  favor 
of  death.  The  prisoners  shall  be  taken  to  the  Hoff 
man  cabin  and  confined  there  under  double  guard 
until  nine  o'clock  to-morrow  morning  ;  from  thence 
they  shall  be  taken  and  be  hung  by  the  neck  until 
dead.  The  guard  are  empowered  to  carry  this  sen 
tence  into  effect."  The  guard  now  closed  around 
the  prisoners,  whom  they  conducted  with  great  diffi 
culty  to  the  cabin  prison,  around  which  both  friends 
and  foes  remained  until  a  late  hour  of  the  night. 

The  sunbeams  had  been  pressing  their  long,  warm 
fingers  through  the  belts  of  heavy  timber  for  some 
three  hours  or  more,  and  yet  everything  was  quiet 
at  Rumford's  Corner.  The  smoke  from  many  cab 
ins  was  seen  curling  gracefully  up  into  the  clear 
blue  sky.  A  miner  with  his  bucket  was  seen  oc 
casionally  wending  his  way  to  the  creek  for  water ; 
but  beyond  this  nothing  disturbed  the  sleepy  calm 
ness  of  this  beautiful  autumn  morning,  if  we  may 
except  the  drowsy  guardsmen  stationed  at  the  Hoff 
man  cabin. 

I  said  everything  was  quiet  at  the  Corner.  Yes,  so 
it  was  ;  and  yet  over  at  the  "  Forks  "  men  were  seen 
adjusting  ropes  to  the  limb  of  a  large  pine  which 
stood  like  a  warrior  in  advance  of  his  corps.  The 
ends  of  the  ropes  were  let  down  to  within  a  short 


THE  RIPPLE  SPRING  HOUSE.  135 

distance  of  the  ground,  and  swayed  to  and  fro  in  the 
light,  refreshing  breeze. 

"  Good  morning,  Mr.  Stimpson." 

"  Ah,  good  morning,  neighbor." 

"  Fine  day  for  the  execution." 

"Yes,  so  it  is  — good  enough  for  anything." 

"  Are  ye  going  over  to  see  'em  swing  ? " 

"  Well,  no,  neighbor ;  I  don't  relish  such  specta 
cles  ;  and  between  you  and  me  I  'm  dreadful  sorry 
the  boot  had  n't  been  on  tother  leg." 

"  Them  chaps  did  n't  look  such  hardened  crim 
inals  to  me,  neither." 

"  Well,  you  are  about  right,  Mr.  Stimpson,  I  voted, 
of  course,  with  the  left,  but  after  a  night's  reflection 
I  should  vote  the  other  way." 

"  That  Graham  fellow,"  continued  Mr.  Stimpson, 
"  did  the  smart  thing.  I  do  believe  if  he  "  — 

"  Halloo,  what 's  going  on  down  at  the  prison," 
broke  in  his  neighbor,  drawing  his  friend  gently 
about  by  the  elbow. 

A  large  crowd  was  seen  gathering  about  the  Hoff 
man  cabin,  and  shortly  after  the  startling  cry  was 
heard  that  the  prisoners  had  escaped.  This  piece 
of  news,  so  wholly  unexpected,  went  through  the 
settlement  like  wildfire.  Knots  of  men  gathered 
here  and  there,  and  the  singular  and  almost  miracu 
lous  escape  became  the  topic  of  the  day. 

A  close  examination  of  the  cabin  followed,  when 


136  A    WINTER  EVENING 'S   TALE. 

a  hole  sufficiently  large  to  admit  a  man's  body  was 
discovered  cut  through  the  angle  of  the  chimney 
near  the  ground.  It  had  been  made  from  the  out 
side,  and  among  the  ctibris  was  found  a  common 
sheathe  knife  with  the  initials  F.  G.  cut  deep  into 
the  handle. 

-The  absence  of  the  Major's  canteen  and  haver 
sack,  and  the  sudden  disappearance  of  everything 
eatable  from  Mrs.  Winchester's  cupboard,  was  cor 
rectly  interpreted  by  the  Major  and  his  family,  but 
all  knowledge  of  their  whereabouts  was  faithfully 
concealed.  The  knife  ultimately  got  into  the  hands 
of  the  Winchester  family,  where  for  years  afterwards 
it  could  be  seen  sheathed  in  a  morocco  case,  and 
suspended  by  a  silken  cord  over  the  mantel-piece. 
It  was  not  treasured  because  of  its  intrinsic  value, 
nor  made  conspicuous  on  account  of  superior  work 
manship.  But  it  was  retained  for  the  great  respect 
which  the  family  bore  for  its  former  owner,  who 
had,  they  asserted,  revived  true  heroism,  and  de 
monstrated,  at  least  to  the  residents  of  Rumford's 
Corner,  the  meaning  of  the  phrase,  "A  friend  in 
need  is  a  friend  indeed." 


CHAPTER  X. 

THE  DOWNIE  HOUSE,  ROUGH  AND  READY. 

"  Oh,  let  me  unlade  my  heart,  pour  out  the  fullness  of  my  soul  before  thee,  show 
every  tender,  every  grateful  thought  this  wondrous  goodness  moves ;  but  't  is  irrr 
possible,  and  utterances,  all  are  vile  —  since  this  poor  heart  can  show  thee  naught, 
I  '11  let  the  future  prove  my  candid  obligations." 

IT  was  early  in  November,  a  chilly,  westerly  wind 
blew  the  crisp  leaves  high  into  the  air,  and  after 
rustling  them  about  in  the  most  spiteful  manner, 
drove  them  hard  and  fast  into  the  deep  recesses  by 
the  wayside.  The  broken  clouds,  too,  sailed  swiftly 
over  the  hills  and  valleys,  and  the  tree-tops  bent  and 
shivered  in  the  gale.  The  heavily  laden  teams 
jogged  slowly  along  the  ragged  roads,  the  teamster 
and  his  animals  being  half  blinded  by  the  clouds  of 
dust  which  accompanied  them.  This  sharp,  bluster 
ing  wind  was  but  the  prelude  to  a  winter  of  four 
months'  duration  —  a  prelude  which  admonished  the 
proprietors  of  the  Ripple  Spring  House  to  prepare 
for  the  change  of  weather  which  was  nigh  at  hand. 

It  was  during  the  afternoon  of  this  disagreeable 
day  that  Graham  stood  under  the  awning  by  the 
watering  trough,  watching  the  long  lines  of  wild 
brants  on  their  way  to  their  warm  southern  homes. 


138  A    WINTER  EVENING'S   TALE. 

The  gusts  of  wind  ever  and  anon  would  strike  the 
exposed  face  of  the  hill  and  lift  the  dust  and  leaves 
so  high  as  to  obscure  the  road  at  times  for  some  dis 
tance,  then  whirling  along  the  road  would  disappear 
only  to  be  succeeded  by  others.  It  wras  just  after 
one  of  these  heavy  clouds  of  dust  had  passed  over 
the  brow  of  the  hill  that  a  boy  some  fourteen  years 
of  age  came  within  sight,  and  stopping  long  enough 
to  catch  his  breath  limped  down  the  hill  towards  the 
hotel  door.  He  was  barefooted,  had  neither  coat 
nor  vest,  his  pants  were  suspended  by  a  buckskin 
thong,  and  about  his  neck  was  loosely  tied  a  red 
bandanna  handkerchief.  As  he  hobbled  up  to  the 
hotel  door  his  countenance  betrayed  a  hidden  sad 
ness,  while  his  general  appearance  bespoke  exposure 
and  hardships. 

Nodding  humbly  to  Graham,  and  thanking  him  for 
the  glass  of  water  which  had  been  offered  him,  he 
leaned  against  the  awning  post  and  fanned  his 
flushed  cheeks  with  an  old  tattered  palm-leaf. 

"  What  is  the  distance  to  Sacramento  City,  sir," 
began  the  boy,  bashfully. 

"  About  forty  miles.  Won't  you  stop  and  rest 
a  while  ?  " 

"  No,  sir  ;  thank  you.  I  must  push  on.  What  is 
the  next  station  ?  " 

"  McQuaid's,  Barney  McQuaid's  on  Bear  River, 
about  eight  miles  from  here.  But  sit  down,  boy ; 


THE  DOWNIE  HOUSE,  ROUGH  AND  READY.    139 

sit  down,  and  while  you  rest  I  '11  bring  you  out  a 
little  something  to  eat." 

"  What  is  your  name  ? "  resumed  Graham,  as  he 
put  a  plate  of  food  into  the  boy's  lap. 

"  Charlie  Downie,"  replied  the  boy,  with  a  grate 
ful  smile. 

"  Well,  Charlie,  what  is  the  trouble  ?  You  seem 
poorly  dressed  for  the  season.  Are  these  the  only 
clothes  you  own  ?  You  need  n't  be  afraid  to  un 
bosom  your  troubles  to  me,  if  you  have  any." 

The  boy  sat  mute  and  sad,  his  eyes  fixed  on  va 
cancy,  while  his  thoughts  seemed  to  be  wandering 
back  over  the  hills. 

"Well,  how  is  it,  Charlie  ?  Have  you  but  just  got 
in  from  the  plains  ? "  inquired  Graham,  sympatheti 
cally,  still  pressing  the  boy  for  an  answer.  "  Come, 
out  with  it.  You  will  feel  better,"  he  continued,  as 
he  noticed  the  boy  struggling  against  his  feelings. 
"  You  have  had  a  hard  time  of  it,  I  know.  Is  n't  it 
about  so,  Charlie  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  he  replied,  his  voice  trembling,  his  lips 
quivering  with  emotion  ;  then,  pointing  down  to  his 
swollen  feet  and  bleeding  toes,  buried  his  face  in  his 
tattered  hat  and  burst  into  tears. 

His  story  was  brief,  painful,  and  tragical.  It  was 
told  while  the  tear-drops  fell  upon  his  shabby  shirt. 
It  came  up  from  a  heart  glad  to  be  relieved  of  its 
painful  weight,  and  was  uttered  without  the  slight 
est  hope  of  relief. 


I4O  A    WINTER  EVENING 'S   TALE. 

"There  was,"  said  he,  "  one  hundred  and  thirty- 
two  in  our  train,  and  we  left  the  Missouri  River  last 
June.  It  is  now,  I  believe,  November,  and  only 
ninety-four  lived  to  get  through.  Father  was  a  far 
mer  in  Indiana.  He  sold  his  place  and  joined  the 
train  at  St.  Louis.  We  had  a  good  outfit,  and  six 
yoke  of  oxen.  The  feed  gave  out  and  so  did  the 
cattle.  We  wanted  to  get  along  faster,  so  traded 
them  off  for  horses.  The  Indians  attacked  us  on 
the  Sweetwater  and  wiped  out  thirty-eight  of  our 
party,  among  whom  were  father,  sister,  and  a  brother 
next  to  me.  They  ran  off  most  of  our  stock,  leaving 
us  but  three  horses.  We  could  n't  get  along  with 
our  load,  so  threw  away  bacon,  flour,  rice,  and  grain. 
We  have  footed  it  for  the  last  six  hundred  miles. 
Our  horses  have  just  given  out,  and  the  folks  have 
gone  into  camp  off  from  the  main  road  about  four 
miles  back  along.  They  had  but  little  to  eat  when 
I  left,  and  I  am  on  the  way  to  the  city  for  help,  as 
we  have  some  friends  there." 

No  one  could  doubt  the  truth  of  the  boy's  story. 
His  tender  years,  his  childish  purity,  so  distinctly 
seen  in  his  brown,  sunburnt  face,  only  went  to  con 
firm  his  assertions.  The  family,  it  would  seem,  were 
among  the  survivors  of  the  immigrant  train  which 
left  "  St.  Joe  "  on  the  Missouri  River  in  June,  under 
the  leadership  of  Tom  Sedgwick,  and  was  known 
among  the  immigrants  as  the  "  Corn  Crackers." 


THE  DOWNIE  HOUSE,  ROUGH  AND  READY.     141 

This  train  was  made  up  largely  of  farmers  and  their 
families.  They  met  a  worse  fate,  possibly,  than  the 
majority  of  the  pioneers  who  crossed  the  plains  in 
the  early  days.  They  had  passed  the  desert  with 
scanty  supplies,  haunted  by  famine  and  harassed  by 
Indians.  They  had  submitted  to  every  privation, 
and  endured  hardships  unknown  to  civilization. 
They  had  reached  the  "  land  of  promise  "  footsore, 
discouraged,  destitute,  and  absolutely  suffering  for 
food.  This  was  the  picture  which  confronted  Gra 
ham  and  his  companions  at  the  conclusion  of  the 
boy's  story.  It  was  a  picture  which  sharpened  their 
wits-,  and  brought  to  the  surface  the  spiritual  in 
wardness  of  man. 

It  was  not  long  before  Graham  with  his  mule 
laden  with  supplies,  and  accompanied  by  the  boy, 
started  to  relieve  the  wretched  condition  of  the 
Downie  family. 

The  boy's  statement  was  substantially  correct. 
Nothing  could  exceed  their  poverty  or  equal  their 
fortitude  and  long-suffering.  The  family  consisted 
of  Mrs.  Downie,  her  two  sons,  and  two  daughters. 
Fritz,  the  oldest,  had  shot  a  deer  and  was  absent  on 
his  trail.  Charlie,  the  youngest,  has  been  already 
mentioned.  Mary  and  Susan,  the  daughters,  were 
young  women,  modest  and  unassuming.  The  timely 
assistance  was  gratefully  acknowledged  by  all.  It 
was  an  agreeable  surprise.  It  came  so  opportune, 


142  A    WINTER  EVENING'S   TALE. 

and  the  relief  and  torture  to  both  mind  and  body  was 
so  much  assuaged,  that  tears,  the  safety  valve  to  the 
heart,  brought  them  the  much  needed  alleviation. 

The  huntsman  returned  to  camp  bringing  with 
him  his  game  dressed  and  ready  for  use.  A  general 
congratulation  occurred  between  the  family  and 
their  guest,  during  which  the  cold  formalities  usu 
ally  so  embarrassing  were  forgotten,  and  a  sumptu 
ous  supper  served,  such  as  the  Downie  family  had 
not  sat  down  to  for  many  weary  months.  A  con-  , 
ference  was  now  held  before  an  enlarged  camp-fire, 
which  lasted  for  some  hours.  To  develop  some  plan 
by  which  the  family  could  be  extricated  from  their 
present  dilemma,  and  a  bed-rock  laid  upon  which 
they  could  build  their  own  fortune,  was  the  para 
mount  question,  which  was  carefully  considered. 
Graham  urged  them  to  go  back  to  a  small  mining 
settlement  known  as  "  Rough  and  Ready,"  and  set 
tled  by  a  mining  company  of  that  name.  They  had 
struck  good  diggings  there,  and  the  place  would  in 
crease  in  population,  and  ultimately  become  a  large 
town.  He  advised  them  to  open  a  boarding-house, 
and  the  two  boys  to  go  to  work  in  the  mines.  He 
offered  to  go  with  them  and  to  do  all  he  could  to  ac 
complish  this  purpose.  This  was  finally  agreed  to, 
and  the  next  day  the  party  halted  in  the  centre  of 
the  rude  encampment,  and  called  a  meeting  of  the 
miners  about  them.  These  hardy  pioneers  gave  the 


THE  DOWN  IE  HOUSE,   ROUGH  AND  READY,     143 

family  every  encouragement  to  settle  and  live  among 
them,  promising  to  render  such  assistance  as  they 
should  need. 

Graham  left  the  family  here  in  the  care  of  men 
who  subsequently  not  only  made  good  their  prom 
ises,  but  continued  warm  friends  of  theirs  for  many 
years.  Before  leaving,  however,  he  placed  in  the 
hands  of  Mrs.  Downie  a  small  sum  of  money  to 
cover  their  immediate  wants.  He  gave  them,  also, 
letters  of  credit  upon  business  houses  in  the  city  of 
Sacramento.  Urging  them  to  stick  to  their  adopted 
home  and  keep  united  among  themselves,  which 
would  assure  them  success  and  prosperity,  he  bade 
them  good-by,  wishing  them  all  sorts  of  good  luck, 
and  promising  to  call  and  see  them  at  some  future 
day. 

Two  years  after  this  event  a  man  with  long  hair 
and  flowing  beard,  wearing  a  slouched  hat  and  top- 
boots,  while  over  his  shoulders  hung  a  heavy  "  pon 
cho,"  which  covered  the  upper  parts  of  his  body, 
emerged  from  a  deep  forest  which  fringed  the  ridge 
of  the  South  Yuba  River,  and  took  a  seat  by  the 
wayside  to  rest.  A  short  time  afterwards  a  team 
came  rattling  along  over  the  dusty  road  with  some 
half  a  dozen  passengers  huddled  together  in  the  bot 
tom  of  the  wagon.  As  the  team  reached  the  spot 
where  the  traveler  sat,  the  driver  stopped  his  horses 
and  inquired  if  he  would  like  to  ride.  The  man 


144  A    WINTER  EVENING'S   TALE. 

instantly  arose  to  his  feet  and  as  he  walked  towards 
the  team  stopped  suddenly  and  hesitated  ;  but  on 
being  urged  to  get  in,  sprang  up  over  the  side  and 
took  a  seat  on  the  bottom  with  the  rest. 

"  Are  you  going  to  the  city,  sir  ?  "  inquired  the 
driver,  as  he  cracked  his  whip  over  his  leaders. 

"  Yes,  I  am.  What  are  you  going  to  charge  to 
carry  me  there  ? " 

"  Oh,  'bout  five  dollars,  I  guess  —  the  stage,  you 
know,  charges  twelve." 

"  Well,  the  terms,  driver,  are  all  right,  but  are  you 
willing  to  trust  me  till  I  reach  the  city  ? " 

"  Oh  —  yes  —  I  guess  so  —  why,  are  you  flat 
broke  ? " 

"  No,  not  exactly  that,  but  I  am  too  poor  just  now 
to  spare  that  amount.  Now  if  you  don't  feel  will 
ing  to  take  me  through  on  my  word  of  honor,  you 
may  leave  me  at  Nevada,  and  I  will  try  my  luck  in 
the  morning." 

"  Oh,  no  ;  shan't  do  that.  It  ain't  my  style  ;  you 
can  ride ;  I  reckon  it 's  all  right.  But,  by  the  by, 
sir,  did  n't  you  use  to  keep  the  Ripple  Spring  House." 

"Yes,  I  did." 

"Well,  I  thought  I'd  seen  you  somewhere  afore. 
But  how  you  've  changed  —  mighty  Judas  —  I  should 
hardly  have  known  you  but  for  yer  voice." 

At  the  conclusion  of  this  little  episode  the  con 
versation  became  general.  While  the  party  amuse 


THE  DOWNIE  HOUSE,   ROUGH  AND  READY.     145 

themselves  with  their  wild,  rollicking  stories,  we 
will  gather  into  as  small  a  compass  as  possible 
the  events  of  these  two  years,  and  present  them  to 
our  readers. 

In  the  summer  of  1851  the  proprietors  of  the 
Ripple  Spring  House  sold  their  hotel  and  the  com 
pany  dissolved.  The  disease  which  Tully  Little- 
field  had  contracted  at  the  head  waters  of  the  Yuba 
River,  and  which  it  was  believed  had  been  brought 
under  control,  broke  out  afresh  and  assume^,  a  ma 
lignant  form.  His  physicians,  therefore,  ordered 
him  to  spend  a  season  at  the  Sandwich  Islands. 
Doctor  Burns  accepted  a  stewardship  on  board  the 
steamer  Governor  Dana,  and  Graham  joined  a  com 
pany  of  miners  en  route  to  the  southern  mines.  Two 
months  were  wasted .  by  this  company  in  fruitless 
attempts  to  satisfy  six  disaffected  minds.  Finally 
the  company  broke  up,  and  Qraham  joined  a  small 
party  on  Slitter's  Creek  in  lone  Valley.  They  were 
professedly  miners,  but  devoted  certain  portions  of 
each  year  to  hunting,  —  game  being  abundant  in 
this  rich  and  uncultivated  region.  They  spent  the 
fall  and  winter  in  various  mining  operations,  a_nd  in 
the  spring  hung  up  the  pick  and  shovel  and  took 
down  the  knife  and  rifle. 

Early  in  the  month  of  March  one  of  the  company 
returned  from  his  customary  rounds  in  search  of 
game,  and  announced  to  the  party  that  he  had  dis- 

10 


146  A    WINTER  EVENING'S   TALE. 

covered  a  grizzly  bear  feeding  upon  the  carcass  of  a 
horse  about  a  mile  above  their  camp,  and  persuaded 
the  boys  to  attempt  his  capture.  There  was  a  mar 
ket  in  those  days  for  live  bears,  because  bull-baiting 
was  among  the  most  attractive  amusements  of  the 
times.  Therefore  a  steel  trap  was  procured  from  a 
party  of  hunters  a  few  miles  above  them  on  the 
river.  It  was  a  large,  old-fashioned  gin-trap,  having 
attached  to  it  a  twenty-foot  chain  with  a  hook  at 
the  end,  the  whole  weighing  perhaps  a  hundred 
pounds.  This  was  carried  to  the  spot  where  the 
dead  horse  lay,  and  carefully  concealed  close  to  the 
animal's  back  and  directly  under  the  tracks  made 
by  the  bear  as  he  came  up  from  the  ravine  to  feed. 
The  trap  was  fastened  down  by  long,  forked  sticks 
driven  deep  into  the  earth,  and  the  chain  was  passed 
under  the  root*  of  a  tree  and  linked,  both  trap  and 
chain  being  carefully*covered  with  leaves  and  with 
ered  grass.  Next  day  the  trap,  to  the  surprise  of 
all,  was  gone.  The  struggles  of  the  bear  to  free 
himself  from  his  fastenings  were  plainly  indicated 
in  the  condition  of  the  ground  and  the  surrounding 
brushwood.  But  he  had  apparently  drawn  the  long, 
forked  sticks  out  of  the  ground  as  though  they  were 
but  skewers,  and  released  the  linked  chain  by  gnaw 
ing  a  root  fully  six  inches  in  thickness.  His  tracks 
were  large,  deep,  and  distinct,  and  were  followed  with 
interest  and  caution.  His  route  lay  along  the  side 


THE  DOWNIE  HOUSE,  ROUGH  AND  READY.     147 

and  up  the  hill,  which  was  not  high,  but  steep.  The 
slope  was  sparsely  wooded  but  thickly  covered  with 
chaparral.  It  was  not  long  before  he  was  discov 
ered,  and  his  pursuers  were  gratified  to  find  that  he 
had  been  caught  by  one  of  his  fore  paws,  and  that 
the  hook  had  become  buried  deeply  in  the  crotch  of 
a  scrub-oak.  This  tree  branched  off  close  to  the 
ground,  and  the  bear  in  his  flight  had  passed  through 
the  space  between  the  branches,  and  thus  had  helped 
to  bring  about  his  own  capture.  Half  of  the  chain 
was  wound  tightly  around  the  butt  of  the  tree  ;  and 
the  bear,  when  first  seen,  lay  exhausted  from  his 
efforts  to  release  himself. 

The  scene  about  the  tree  was  remarkable  for  the 
effects  of  the  animal's  fury.  He  had  wound  himself 
up  by  the  chain  and  again  reversed  his  action,  form 
ing  a  ring  to  its  utmost  limits.  Young  saplings  were 
uprooted  and  stripped  of  their  foliage,  the  brush  and 
bramble  thicket  was  flattened  to  the  ground,  and 
the  earth  was  torn  up,  —  all  this  to  such  an  extent 
that  it  seemed  impossible  for  any  animal  to  do  so 
much  mischief  in  so  short  a  time. 

The  boys  sallied  out  from  under  the  thicket  into 
the  open  space,  and  were  standing  in  full  view  of 
the  bear.  All  at  once  he  raised  himself  upon  his 
hind  legs,  lifting  the  huge  trap  with  but  little  effort, 
and  bellowing  with  maddened  fury,  sprang  toward 
them.  But  the  chain  interfered  with  his  progress, 


148  A    WINTER  EVENING'S    TALE. 

and  he  came  tumbling  head  over  heels  and  flounder 
ing  about  in  a  most  comical  manner.  This  diver 
sion  caused  a  panic  among  the  party,  who  had  up 
to  this  time  shown  much  bravery,  but  who  now 
bounded  off  like  deer.  The  style  of  retreat,  and 
the  peculiar  feats  performed  by  them  while  seeking 
places  of  safety,  made  the  event  a  laughable  and 
memorable  one.  But,  on  the  whole,  the  danger  was 
more  apparent  than  real. 

The  prize  so  anxiously  sought,  so  successfully 
captured,  was  but  partly  won.  He  must  be  secured 
and  moved  to  a  place  of  safe-keeping  before  the  en 
terprise  could  be  considered  complete.  It  was  not 
the  thousand  dollars  reward  offered  by  Colonel 
Hinks  that  stimulated  them,  so  much  as  the  reputa 
tion  and  prestige  they  would  acquire.  It  was  a  big 
job  for  five  men  to  undertake,  but  fewer  the  number 
greater  would  be  their  renown.  So  plans  were  ma 
tured  and  the  perilous  attempt  was  made  to  secure 
a  grizzly  bear  alive.  A  Mexican  vaquero  connected 
with  the  ranch  was  sent  for,  and  a  yoke  of  oxen 
with  a  light  open  wagon  borrowed  for  the  occasion. 
The  rear  wheels  were  removed  and  the  wagon  bed 
wedged  against  the  side  of  the  hill  and  secured. 
The  contest  that  followed  was  an  exciting  one.  It 
began  with  Jose's  attempts  to  lasso  the  bear.  At 
first  his  horse  troubled  him  :  she  seemed  unwilling 
to  enter  the  contest,  and  then,  again,  the  bear  would 


THE  DOWNIE  HOUSE,   ROUGH  AND  READY.     149 

hug  the  ground  and  lessen  the  vaquero's  chances, 
but  at  length  the  favorable  opportunity  arrived  and 
in  a  twinkling  the  fatal  noose  was  lodged  about  his 
neck.  The  struggle  which  ensued  for  the  next  ten 
minutes  was  terribly  severe.  It  was  his  supreme 
effort,  and  his  last  but  one  to  escape  his  tortures  and 
impending  doom.  Nothing  could  be  more  commend 
able  than  the  courage  displayed  by  the  boys,  when, 
taking  advantage  of  the  bear's  exhausted  condition, 
they  stepped  quickly  forward  and  fastened  his  hind 
legs  to  his  fore  paw.  By  this -achievement  they  be 
lieved  the  dangers  were  practically  at  an  end,  and 
the  termination  of  the  issue  was  celebrated  by  loud 
huzzas.  But  such  was  not  the  case,  as  subsequent 
events  proved,  for  another  difficulty  arose  of  still 
greater  importance  and  which  ought  to  have  been 
more  carefully  considered. 

Conquered,  but  not  subdued,  this  king  of  the  Si 
erras  lay  across  the  steep  slope  panting  for  breath. 
How  should  he  be  got  down  the  hill  and  into  the 
wagon,  was  the  question.  No  plan  could  be  sug 
gested  but  what  was  fraught  with  certain  danger. 
It  was  evident  that  one  of  two  things  must  be  done, 
either  the  trap  must  be  sprung  and  the  foot  released, 
or  the  tree  dug  up  and  the  chain  uncoiled.  The 
first  plan  was  considered  safe  and  practicable  ;  the 
latter,  although  much  the  safest,  would  imperil  the 
life  of  the  bear,  and  could  not  be  thought  of.  The 


150  A    WINTER  EVENING'S   TALE. 

moment  bruin  realized  his  freedom  from  the  trap 
he  seized  the  cord  between  his  teeth  and  snapped  it 
asunder.  No  one  had  anticipated  such  an  occur 
rence.  It  was  so  unexpected  and  so  quickly  done 
that  for  a  few  moments  the  whole  party  were  over 
whelmed  with  confusion  and  terror.  Here  another 
laughable  scene  was  enacted  in  which  it  seemed  as 
if  some  of  the  boys  must  have  flown  through  the  air, 
for  they  found  themselves  shortly  afterwards  sus 
pended  to  limbs  of  trees,  ten  to  fifteen  feet  above 
the  ground,  and  could  never  tell  just  how  they  got 
there. 

The  party  came  very  near  losing  their  prize,  and 
perhaps  would  have  done  so  but  for  the  courage  of 
the  vaquero  and  the  strength  of  the  lasso.  Ex 
hausted  as  he  evidently  was,  bruised  and  maimed 
also,  and  with  his  hind  legs  still  inthralled,  he  was, 
nevertheless,  a  formidable  antagonist.  Something 
must  be  instantly  done  to  check  the  advantages  he 
had  gained  or  he  would  certainly  get  away  in  spite 
of  all  they  could  do.  He  must  be  gagged.  If  a 
piece  of  wood  were  inserted  in  his  mouth  and  fast 
ened,  he  then  could  be  handled  with  safety.  Prep 
arations  were  at  once  made  to  carry  this  suggestion 
into  effect. 

When  he  made  his  final  effort  for  life  and  liberty, 
the  bear  lay  on  his  side  on  the  slope  of  the  hill. 
The  day  was  far  advanced,  and  the  shadows  were 


THE  DO  WNIE  HO  USE,  ROUGH  AND  READ  Y.     151 

creeping  down  the  barren  hill- tops.  The  men  were 
wearied,  the  horse  was  jaded,  and  the  bear  prostrate 
and  half  dead.  Jose,  mounted  upon  his  faithful 
horse,  was  ready  to  intercept  any  attempt  at  escape. 
Stimpson  and  Graham  volunteered  to  gag  the  bear 
while  the  rest  held  him  down.  The  former  took  the 
upper,  and  the  latter  kneeled  down  on  the  lower 
side  of  the  bear,  and  each  took  an  end  of  the  gag 
and  said  they  were  ready. 

Well,  the  plans  were  good,  but  they  did  not  work. 
Nothing  had  seemed  more  certain  of  success,  yet  it 
turned  out  a  sad  disaster.  The  bear  made  his  last 
grand  struggle  here  and  died ;  but  not  before  he  had 
inflicted  wounds  upon  one  of  his  assailants  which 
disfigured  him  for  life.  He  made  but  a  single  effort 
and  that  was  a  heroic  one.  Springing  from  the 
ground  with  lightning  speed,  he  plunged  down  the 
hill,  crushing  Graham  beneath  him  in  his  fall. 
Everything  yielded  to  his  sudden  fury  and  great 
strength.  The  lasso  had  snapped  like  whip-cord, 
bringing  the  horse  upon  her  knees  and  her  rider 
over  her  head  to  the  ground.  The  boys,  too,  were 
pitched  head  over  heels,  nearly  knocking  the  breath 
out  of  their  bodies,  and  for  a  while  the  air  seemed 
filled  with  men  and  animals.  Not  one  of  the  party 
could  ever  tell  just  how  the  last  act  in  the  scene 
began,  or  how  it  came  to  an  end.  But  at  its  close 
there  lay  upon  the  ground  two  victims  of  the  con- 


152  A    WINTER  EVENING'S   TALE. 

test,  and  the  spectators  which  gathered  around  them 
were  pale  and  trembling  and  silent.  The  bear  was 
dead ;  the  gash  in  his  head,  and  the  axe  covered 
with  blood,  too  plainly  told  the  story  —  that  was 
Stimpson's  work.  Graham  was  taken  up  faint  and 
bleeding,  and  borne  to  the  neighboring  stream. 
The  terrified  oxen  had  broken  away  and  were  going 
pell  mell  for  the  ranch. 

Graham's  injuries  were  found  to  be  of  a  serious 
nature,  for  in  addition  to  the  painful  bruises  he  re 
ceived,  the  bear  had  bitten  his  arm  above  the  elbow, 
his  tusks  passing  through  it,  injuring  the  bone  badly. 
The  country  was  scoured  for  miles  for  the  best  med 
ical  skill  that  could  be  employed,  but  nothing  could 
stop  the  intermissive  bleeding,  and  he  was  removed 
to  the  State  hospital  at  Sacramento  for  treatment. 

Thus  terminated  the  attempted  capture  of  a  griz 
zly  bear  alive,  —  an  enterprise  so  frightful  and  so 
rash  that  in  the  calmer  moments  of  after  years  it 
seemed  presumptuous  and  wicked.  It  was  a  specta 
cle,  however,  grand  and  tragical,  in  which  persistent 
bravery  fought  against  brute  force  and  instinctive 
self-preservation.  It  was  a  scene  such  as  few  men 
were  permitted  to  witness,  even  in  that  land  so  fa 
mous  for  adventures  and  personal  encounters. 

The  best  medical  skill  could  not  save  Graham's 
arm  ;  it  was  therefore  amputated.  He  lay  in  the 
gloomy  ward  of  a  hospital  month  after  month,  sip- 


THE  DO  WNIE  HOUSE,  ROUGH  AND  READ  Y.      153 

ping  the  cup  of  woe  drop  by  drop.  The  spring 
came  with  its  birds  and  flowers  and  golden  sun 
shine  ;  the  summer  passed  with  its  harvest  and  its 
attendant  joys  ;  the  fall  came  with  its  seared  and 
yellow  leaf,  and  now  we  find  him  in  the  bed  of  an 
open  wagon,  traveling  upon  his  honor  and  good  name 
to  the  city  of  Sacramento. 

He  had  latterly  been  employed  by  a  company  of 
miners  as  a  water  agent  on  one  of  the  tributaries  of 
the  South  Yuba,  and  the  object  for  which  the  com 
pany  was  organized  having  turned  out  a  total  failure, 
he  is  now  returning  to  the  city,  feeble  and  destitute, 
with  a  heart  crushed  by  poverty  and  disappointment. 
It  was  a  clear,  cool  night,  and  the  pale  moon  shone 
through  the  leafy  branches  as  the  team  rattled  along 
over  the  rugged  and  dusty  road.  The  company 
were  merry  and  talkative,  and  observing  the  melan 
choly  silence  which  hung  over  the  new-comer,  often 
spoke  in  sincerity  rough-hewn  words  of  encourage 
ment  which  were  long  remembered  by  him.  On 
gaining  the  top  of  Watch  Hill  Ridge,  the  glimmer 
ing  lights  of  the  mountain  city  were  plainly  discern 
ible  a  short  distance  ahead.  The  tone  and  character 
of  each  public  house  was  now  freely  discussed,  and 
the  choice  being  left  to  the  teamster,  that  worthy 
replied,  "  Mother  Downie's,  of  course."  The  men 
tion  of  that  name  brought  Graham  back  to  his  senses, 
for  his  mind  had  been  wandering  during  the  conver- 


[54  A    WINTER  EVENING'S   TALE. 

sation,  and  the  sound  of  that  lady's  name  fell  upon 
his  ears  like  a  clap  of  thunder.  This  had  never  for 
a  moment  occurred  to  him,  and  surely,  of  all  houses, 
this  was  the  last  one  for  him  to  stop  at,  in  his  pres 
ent  wretched  condition.  No,  never !  He  could  not 
stop  there.  He  would  never  subject  his  proud  heart 
to  such  humiliation  —  for  the  conversation  which 
followed  the  expressman's  decision  only  confirmed 
his  suspicions  that  the  once  poor  and  dependent 
family  of  Ripple  Spring  House  memory  had  become 
one  of  the  first  families  in  the  place.  No,  he  could 
not  go  there  in  his  present  state  of  mind.  They 
would  discover  his  poverty,  mistake  his  visit,  and 
give  his  susceptible  heart  an  icy  welcome.  He  could 
not  bring  himself  to  believe  that  the  trifling  assist 
ance  he  gave  them  when  similarly  situated  had 
proven  the  foundation  rock  upon  which  they  had 
risen  so  suddenly  to  wealth  and  distinction.  And 
even  if  it  were  so,  a  long  time  had  elapsed  since 
then.  They  had  most  likely  forgotten  the  circum 
stances,  which  would  be  nothing  strange  or  un 
usual. 

While  he  was  in  this  state  of  mind,  they  entered 
the  town  and  drove  rapidly  up  to  the  hotel  door. 
There  seemed  to  be  no  way  for  him  to  avoid  either 
his  companions  or  entering  the  house.  He  con 
cluded,  however,  it  were  better  for  him  to  engage  a 
room  and  retire,  believing  his  altered  looks  and 


THE  DOWNIE  HOUSE,  ROUGH  AND  READY.      155 

shabby  appearance  would  permit  him  to  pass  unob 
served. 

A  large  number  of  miners  and  travelers  were 
lounging  about  the  bar-room,  which  was  large  and 
evinced  some  signs  of  refinement.  There  were  a 
few  pictures  hanging  upon  the  walls  and  a  disposi 
tion  shown  to  ornament  the  ceiling,  but  the  main 
attraction  centred  in  the  bar,  which  was  evidently 
the  pride  and  glory  of  the  Downie  family. 

The  first  face  that  Graham  recognized  was  that 
of  Fritz,  who  stood  behind  the  bar  nicely  dressed, 
wearing  a  fashionably  cut  mustache,  a  diamond  pin, 
and  a  heavy  gold  chain,  which  reached  from  pocket 
to  pocket.  Graham,  stepping  up  to  the  desk,  said, 
"  Mr.  Clerk,  if  you  will  give  me  a  room  I  will  re 
tire." 

"  You  came  with  Marsden,  sir,  I  believe,"  blandly 
replied  Fritz,  scanning  the  face  of  the  stranger  be 
fore  him. 

"  Well,  yes ;  I  think  that  is  the  expressman's 
name  ;  but  what  has  that  to  do  with  me,"  answered 
Graham,  inquiringly. 

"  Oh,  nothing,  sir,  especially,"  replied  Fritz ;  "only 
Marsden  has  ordered  both  your  supper  and  lodg- 
ings." 

"  Indeed ! "  said  Frank,  surprised  and  annoyed. 
"  What  am  I  to  understand  by  that  ?  " 

"Only  that  your  bill  is  settled  in  advance,"  re- 


156  A    WINTER  EVENING'S   TALE. 

torted  Fritz,  in  a  sharp,  knotty  tone,  which  went 
through  Graham's  heart  like  a  stiletto. 

But  here  the  supper  bell  rang,  drowning  the  busy 
hum,  and  to  avoid  further  controversy  he  joined  the 
crowd  and  took  a  seat  at  the  table. 

"  Will  you  take  tea  or  coffee,  sir  ? "  inquired  a 
warm,  womanly  voice,  which  came  nearly  choking  a 
reply  ;  for  in  that  voice  he  instantly  recognized  the 
oldest  daughter,  Mary,  between  whom  and  himself 
a  brief  feeling  of  friendship  had  sprung  up,  and  to 
whom  he  had  prophesied  their  present  position. 

"  Shall  I  assist  you  ?  "  kindly  suggested  a  stranger 
on  the  opposite  side  of  the  table,  who  had 'noticed 
that  Frank  labored  under  some  difficulty  in  attempt 
ing  to  cut  his  meat  with  one  hand. 

"  Are  you  lame  ? "  asked  another  at  the  same  mo 
ment. 

These  questions  naturally  attracted  the  attention 
of  every  one  at  the  table,  and  were  exceedingly  pain 
ful  to  Graham,  who  sat  exerting  himself  to  appear 
calm,  although  he  was  unable  to  swallow  a  mouth 
ful. 

Mary's  curiosity  had  by  this  time  become  aroused, 
and  she  changed  her  position  so  as  to  get  a  better 
view  of  the  stranger's  features.  At  this  moment 
Graham  raised  his  head,  and  by  the  merest  accident 
their  eyes  met.  It  was  not  a  timid  gaze,  neither 
was  it  a  vulgar  stare ;  but  rather  one  of  those  pe- 


THE  DO  WNIE  HO  USE,  RO  UGH  AND  READ  Y.     157 

culiar,  searching  looks  which  seemed  to  say,  Have 
we  ever  met  before  ?  But  in  this  case  there  seemed 
to  be  no  mistake,  for  in  that"  single  glance  the  keen 
eye  of  woman  penetrated  both  time  and  nature's 
disguise,  and  she  beheld,  with  startled  wonder,  their 
friend  Frank  Graham.  She  left  the  sideboard,  and 
hastily  quit  the  room,  and  as  she  swung  the  cur 
tained  door  aside  and  stepped  down  upon  the  kitchen 
floor,  she  was  heard  to  exclaim,  "  O  mother,  I  be 
lieve  there  is  Frank  Graham  ! "  A  moment  later, 
and  in  came  the  old  lady,  earnestly  gazing  into  every 
face,  her  anxiety  depicted  in  every  movement,  as 
she  cried  out  "  Frank,  Frank ! "  and  when  her  eyes 
fell  upon  the  prostrate  form  and  heard  the  stifled 
sobs  of  the  stranger,  she  threw  her  arms  about  his 
neck  and  caressed  him  with  a  mother's  love. 

There  was  a  happy  reunion  at  Mrs.  Downie's  that 
night ;  and  the  reception  Frank  received  was  one 
of  the  happiest  events  of  his  life.  The  family  offered 
him  many  inducements  to  stay  and  make  Rough  and 
Ready  his  future  home,  but  he  could  not  accept 
them. 

The  next  morning,  as  the  time  of  departure  ar 
rived,  the  family  assembled  at  the  street  door  to  bid 
their  friend  good-by.  The  promises  were  uttered, 
the  farewells  exchanged,  and  the  team  was  upon  the 
point  of  leaving,  when  Fritz  stepped  up,  and  placing 
a  package  in  the  wagon  said,  — 


158  A    WINTER  EVENING'S   TALE. 

"  Frank,  you  will  find  in  this  basket  some  refresh 
ments  —  a  few  cigars  and  a  small  present  from  our 
family.  I  am  mighty  sorry  you  can't  stay  with  us, 
and  make  this  your  future  home.  However,  if  it  is 
good-by  —  why  good-by  it  is.  Here  is  my  hand, 
and  with  it  goes  my  heart.  Should  you  ever  need 
assistance  at  any  time,  let  us  know  it,  and  remem 
ber  that  as  long  as  my  mother's  name  swings  upon 
that  sign  you  can  consider  this  house  your  home. 
Come  to  it  as  often  as  you  can,  — stay  in  it  as  long 
as  you  please,  —  we  shall  be  always  glad  to  see 
you." 

This  present  consisted  of  five  fifty  dollar  gold 
pieces,  each  being  wrapped  separately  and  super 
scribed  with  the  giver's  name.  Inclosed  in  the 
wrappers  were  the  sentiments  of  its  donor  and  the 
expressed  wish  that  they  should  meet  again. 


CHAPTER   XI. 

THE   STATE    HOSPITAL. 

"  Many  a  weary  day  went  by 

While  wretched  and  worn  he  begged  for  bread, 
Tired  of  life  and  longing  to  lie 
Peacefully  down  with  the  silent  dead. 

"  Hunger  and  cold  and  scorn  and  pain 

Had  wasted  his  form  and  seared  his  brain, 
Till  at  last  on  a  bed  of  frozen  ground, 

With  a  pillow  of  stone,  was  the  outcast  found." 

LEIGHTON. 

THE  matter  following  rightfully  precedes  the  clos 
ing  scenes  of  the  previous  chapter,  but  as  the  two 
incidents  narrated  there  were  directly  related  to 
each  other,  it  seemed  impossible  to  insert  it  in  its 
proper  place  without  marring  their  effect.  It  has 
been  the  author's  purpose  to  connect  these  narra 
tives  and  so  far  as  practical  arrange  them  as  they 
occurred,  thus  allowing  the  reader  to  follow  the 
chain  of  events  without  interruption. 

Those  who  have  followed  Graham's  career  to  this 
point,  have  become  to  some  extent  interested  in 
him.  As  a  disabled  man,  then,  in  the  seething  cal 
dron  of  human  selfishness  and  greed,  his  future 
efforts  will  be  watched  with  more  than  ordinary  in 
terest. 


I6O  A    WINTER  EVENING'S    TALE. 

The  State  hospital,  where  Graham  parted  with  his 
arm,  was  situated  in  the  city  of  Sacramento.  It 
was  a  cheap  structure,  and  was  built  with  a  view  of 
accommodating  patients  afflicted  with  every  variety 
of  disease.  It  was  pleasantly  located,  and  a  fine 
view  was  had  from  its  southern  piazza.  At  the  rear 
of  the  building  was  a  spacious  yard,  which  was  in 
closed  by  a  high  board  fence.  Stretching  along 
under  the  shadow  of  this  partition  were  several 
small,  one-story  buildings  with  narrow  doors  and 
windows  covered  with  iron  bars.  This  was  the  in 
sane  asylum,  and  these  little  buildings  were  called 
"lodges."  A  strong,  clumsy  picket  fence  separated 
this  department  from  the  main  building,  and  the 
slats  were  rough  and  unpainted.  The  space  within 
the  inclosure  was  equally  apportioned  to  each  tene 
ment,  and  within  these  spaces,  from  early  dawn 
until  the  shadows  of  each  declining  day  reached  the 
centre  of  the  close,  these  wrecked  and  stranded  in 
tellects  aimlessly  wandered  to  and  fro.  There  was 
nothing  connected  with  this  hospital,  in  which  cen 
tred  so  much  pain,  anguish,  and  suffering,  that 
could  equal  the  miseries  endured  by  these  friendless 
and  abandoned  imbeciles.  It  seemed  as  if  the  heart 
would  burst  with  compassion,  and  the  eyes  drown 
with  tears,  at  the  sight  of  these  poor  creatures  in 
their  filth  and  rags,  going  down  to  untimely  graves. 
The  hospital  wards,  however  were  kept  scrupulously 


THE  STATE  HOSPITAL.  l6l 

clean,  well  ventilated,  comfortably  furnished,  and  in 
charge  of  men  of  fair  ability  and  experience.  The 
physicians,  who  were  able  and  skillful  men,  enforced 
the  rules,  maintained  a  rigid  discipline,  and  kept  the 
institution  up  to  a  fair  standard  of  excellence. 

Graham  was  a  patient  here  for  many  long,  weary 
months.  During  the  first  period  ot  his  stay  he  be 
came  annoyed  if  not  frightened  at  a  strange  and 
peculiar  noise  which  appeared  to  come  from  the  vi 
cinity  of  the  asylum.  It  was  not  a  continual  sound, 
but  was  heard  at  intervals,  just  at  nightfall,  lasting 
sometimes  for  many  minutes.  The  ward  in  which 
Graham  lay  was  on  the  ground  floor,  and  opened  on 
to  a  broad  portico  which  gave  a  full  view  of  the  in- 
closure.  The  wide,  folding  doors  being  thrown  open, 
this  singular  sound  would  seem  to  penetrate  every 
chamber  in  the  building,  and  fall  dismally  upon  the 
weak  and  sensitive  ears.  It  seemed  like  a  human 
voice,  and  yet  it  was  so  unnatural,  so  distressing,  as 
to  disturb  the  slumbering  patient,  and  cause  him  to 
wish  the  weird  phantom  at  the  bottom  of  the  sea. 

"What  is  that  frightful  noise,"  asked  Graham, 
addressing  his  nurse,  the  first  time  it  fell  upon  his 
ear. 

"  Oh,  that  is  Goliath  stirring  up  his  animals.    You 

did  n't  know,  I  suppose,"   his  nurse  continued  with 

an  air  of  feigned  gravity,  "  that  we  had  a  menagerie 

out  back.     But,  sir,  we  have,  and  when  you  get  con- 

n 


1 62  A    WINTER  EVENING'S   TALE. 

valescent,  you  must  go  out  and  look  them  over ;  for 
there  is  as  fine  a  collection  of  wild  men  as  you 
ever  saw.  That  one,"  resumed  his  nurse,  raising 
his  hands  and  eyes  in  pretentious  alarm,  as  the  pain 
ful  sound  again  rolled  over  the  yard  into  the  room, 
"  That  is  the  gladiator  spoiling  for  a  fight." 

"  Go  on,  nurse,  please  go  on  ;  you  interest  me," 
persistently  urged  Graham,  looking  up  wishfully  into 
his  face. 

"  Well,  Goliath  is  the  keeper  of  the  mad-house," 
began  the  nurse,  "  and  now  and  then  some  of  his 
animals  get  stubborn  and  mischievous,  you  see,  and 
must  be  flogged.  You  ought  to  just  see  his  whip. 
It 's  a  beauty,  and  the  only  thing  his  keeper  can  find 
that  will  put  the  '  gladiator  '  into  his  bed.  He 's  a 
tough  customer,  that  'gladiator,'  and  is  from  all  ac 
counts  as  ugly  as  sin.  He  's  on  his  muscle  to-night 
again,  and  Goliath,  you  see,  is  whaling  the  fight  out 
of  him.  It  has  always  seemed  to  me  rather  harsh 
treatment,  but  Goliath  says  the  remedy  is  no  worse 
than  the  disease.  But  there,"  he  added,  turning  his 
face  in  the  direction  of  the  door  and  listening  for  a 
few  moments,  "  he  's  clown  now,  and  you  won't  hear 
anything  further  from  him  for  some  time.  We  have 
got  used  to  it  here,  sir,  and  don't  mind  it." 

The  weeks  flew  by  and  the  months  wore  away, 
and  still  at  irregular  intervals  the  savage  encounter 
took  place  between  Goliath  and  his  infuriated  charge. 


THE   STATE  HOSPITAL.  163 

The  wretched  madman  still  gloried  in  his  fancied 
strength  ;  he  still  persisted  in  his  visionary  exploits, 
he  still  sprang  upon  his  keeper  like  a  tiger  upon  its 
prey,  and  then  camje  the  long,  furious  cry,  the  deep 
agonizing  wail  of  pain,  the  crash  and  fall  which  fol 
lowed  his  defeat.  But  these  frantic  struggles  grew 
less  frequent,  and  the  plaintive  cries  more  and  more 
indistinct.  The  social  interest  now  centred  in  the 
medical  ward,  so  engrossing  as  to  dismiss  for  the 
time  being  both  Goliath  and  his  unruly  patient  en 
tirely  from  Graham's  mind. 

The  medical  ward  occupied  the  principal  room  on 
the  ground  floor.  It  was  light,  airy,  and  clean.  It 
contained  thirty  beds,  which  were  never  empty  only 
to  "  shift  for  a  new  patient."  Graham  had  during  his 
stay  in  this  ward  witnessed  the  strange  phenomena 
of  three  distinct  changes  of  invalids  who  in  turn 
occupied  these  beds,  and  who  in  the  same  order 
passed  away.  They  had  been  regularly  assigned  to 
these  beds,  and  they  had  lived  in  them  until  either 
cured  and  discharged  or  their  bodies  were  removed 
to  the  dead-house  to  be  seen  no  more.  Strange  char 
acters  were  admitted  to  this  ward,  and  inside  its  cold 
and  cheerless  walls  were  enacted  scenes  which  went 
far  to  establish  a  record  for  some  of  the  strongest 
evidences  of  human  suffering,  of  human  fortitude, 
and  human  indifference. 

It  was  an  interesting  spectacle  to  watch  the  coun- 


164  A    WINTER  EVENING'S   TALE. 

tenances  of  the  "incurables"  as  they  scanned  the 
features  of  each  new  patient,  while  he  stripped  him 
self  and  took  to  his  bed.  First,  he  must  submit  to 
a  random  fire  of  questions  which- covered  the  period 
of  his  whole  existence.  Next  came  inquiries  as  to 
the  distinguishing  symptoms  of  his  disease,  the 
character  of  which  was  speedily  arrived  at,  greatly 
to  the  prejudice  of  the  physician's  diagnosis  in  all 
cases.  Then,  with  such  satisfaction  as  he  was 
pleased  to  admit,  he  must  listen  not  only  to  the 
prognostications  as  to  the  length  of  time  he  would 
be  permitted  to  live,  but  also  to  a  characteristic  obit 
uary  notice  to  be  published  on  his  decease ;  likewise 
to  a  brilliant  eulogistic  essay  upon  his  social  stand 
ing  in  the  world  to  come,  with  perhaps  an  epitaph 
thrown  in,  suitable  for  anybody  short  of  a  New  York 
politician. 

The  medical  ward  was  considered  quite  generous, 
for  each  week  it  contributed  two  subjects  to  the 
general  death  roll.  No  sooner  had  the  night  watch 
man  announced  the  name  of  the  last  victim,  than 
the  whole  ward  became  interested  as  to  who  should 
be  the  next  "lucky  man."  The  croakers  cautiously 
began  to  canvass  the  condition  of  each  patient,  and 
with  ominous  nods  and  dubious  shakes  of  the  head 
predict  with  prophetic  zeal  the  "  anointed  one." 

"Well,  Mr.  Pickles,"  began  Gimlet,  as  he  threw  a 
bullet  of  chewed  paper  at  the  head  of  Whalebone  on 


THE  STATE  HOSPITAL.  165 

the  opposite  side  of  the  ward,  striking  the  headboard 
of  that  gentleman's  bed  with  tremendous  force,  — 
"well,  Mr.  Pickles,  it  is  your  turn  next  ! " 

"  What  makes  you  think  so  ? "  surlily  remarked 
Mr.  Pickles,  a  defunct  alcalde  from  Hangtown.  "  I 
guess  I  shan't  go  any  quicker  for  your  wishing 
on  't,"  he  added,  bracing  himself  up  on  his  elbows. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  Mr.  Pickles,  I  had  n't  the  re 
motest  intention  of  wounding  your  feelings  ;  but  if 
your  face  represents  your  inside  as  it  does  your 
outside,  I  should  again  repeat,  you  are  the  coming 
man." 

"  Thank  you,  Mr.  Gimlet.  Hope  you  will  live  to 
see  me  pass  in  my  chips  ;  but  if  a  man's  face  is  an 
index,  you  should  have  paid  your  respects  to  his  Sa 
tanic  Majesty  weeks  ago. 

"  Hit  him  again,"  yelled  out  Skeleton  from  the 
west  end,  clapping  his  hands  with  great  glee,  and 
setting  the  whole  ward  in  an  uproar. 

"  I  '11  bet  you  ten  dollars  to  five,  Pickles,  I  '11 
outlive  you,"  again  put  in  Gimlet,  preparing  another 
bullet. 

"  Better  send  that  ten  dollars  to  Mrs.  Cady  on 
Sixth  Street,"  suggested  Pickles,  warmly. 

"  Take  his  bet,"  chimed  in  Ashly,  advisedly.  "  He 
bled  a  quart  last  night,  and  can't  possibly  stand 
another  attack." 

"  I  don't  want  his  money  half  so  bad  as  his  wash 
erwoman,"  continued  Pickles,  visibly  affected. 


1 66  A    WINTER  EVENING'S   TALE. 

"  Let  the  man  die  in  peace  ! "  shouted  Catarrh 
from  the  south  end,  speaking  through  his  nose. 

.  "  Take  good  care  of  that  nose,  neighbor  Catarrh," 
suggested  Mr.  Bee,  emphasizing  "nose"  solemnly. 
"It  is  highly  appreciated,"  he  added,  "in  this  section 
of  the  ward." 

"  Especially  the  perfume,"  added  Lancet,  chuck 
ling  under  the  bed-clothes. 

"  Does  the  courtesies  of  this  ward  consist  in  twit 
ting  a  man  of  his  infirmities  ? "  meekly  inquired  Mr. 
Catarrh,  snuffling  horribly. 

"  Blow  that  nose!  "  bawled  out  some  one  from  the 
north  end. 

"Well,  now,  gentlemen,"  began  the  Rev.  Mr.  De- 
vine,  with  his  hands  joined  in  an  attitude  of  prayer, 
—  "  now,  gentlemen,  let  me,  if  you  please,  offer  a 
few  extemporaneous  remarks,  and,  if  possible,  throw 
a  few  drops  of  oil  "  — 

"  Amen  !  "  groaned  out  some  one  in  the  most  su 
perb  style,  the  characteristic  drawl  of  a  Down-East 
camp-meeting  causing  considerable  merriment,  dur 
ing  which  the  reverend  gentleman  resumed  his  read 
ing,  and  was  heard  no  more. 

"  Who  did  that  ?  "  angrily  shouted  Pickles,  digging 
a  ball  of  wet  paper  from  his  ear,  —  "  who  did  that  ? " 
he  continued,  growing  pale  with  rage,  and  looking 
savagely  around  the  ward. 

"  Keep  cool,  Pickles,  keep  cool,"  feelingly  put  in 


THE  STATE  HOSPITAL.  1 67 

Mr.  Poultice,  surveying  the  ghastly  face  before  him. 
"  Don't  let  these  wicked  spirits  break  you  down  as 
they  did  poor  Makepeace  week  before  last." 

"  When  it  comes  down  to  a  question  of  spirits/' 
hopped  in  Mr.  Peppermint,  in  a  brusque  manner, 
"  it  behooves  you  to  make  your  assertions  a  little 
less  sweeping,  for  if  reports  from  Bilgewater  are 
reliable,  you  have  handled  a  sufficient  quantity  of 
that  fiery  monster  to  account  for  your  being  an  ex 
pense  to  the  State." 

During  the  last  part  of  this  sentence  Mr.  Poultice, 
a  portly  old  gentleman,  was  observed  nervously 
twitching  in  his  cot,  and  wishfully  looking  about  him 
for  something  in  the  form  of  a  brickbat  or  even  an 
old  boot.  A  moment  later  he  was  seen  tumbling 
out  of  bed,  having  lost  his  balance  in  his  efforts  to 
reach  his  spitcup.  He  struck  squarely  upon  his 
head  and  shoulders,  and  then  fell  over  on  his  back, 
presenting  an  extremely  ludicrous  sight.  Here 
the  whole  ward  burst  in  one  simultaneous  roar  of 
laughter.  Even  Pickles  lost  his  gravity  for  a  mo 
ment,  and  joined  the  wave  of  hilarity.  But  Gimlet 
and  his  neighbor  Peppermint  were  entirely  over 
come,  and  for  a  time  seemed  overwhelmed  with  the 
peculiar  nature  of  the  show.  They  laughed  and 
laughed  till  their  sides  fairly  ached,  and  congestive 
symptoms  showed  themselves  in  their  faces,  which 
had  become  red  and  swollen  with  excitement.  Poor 


1 68  A    WINTER   EVENING'S   TALE. 

Mr.  Poultice  was  to  be  pitied.  He  found  it  was  im 
possible  to  get  back  into  bed  without  assistance, 
and  so  kept  floundering  about  on  the  floor,  his  face 
black  with  rage,  and  bellowing  like  a  foghorn  in  a 
sea  of  trouble. 

The  next  morning,  but  too  early  to  distinguish 
the  living  from  the  dead,  the  usual  roll  call  began 
among  the  patients  of  the  medical  ward.  Pepper 
mint  failed  to  respond,  and  as  the  streaks  of  light 
grew  broader  and  broader,  it  was  found  that  his  cot 
was  gone.  The  unusual  excitement  of  the  preced 
ing  day  had  brought  on  a  violent  fit  of  coughing 
which  hastened  the  poor  fellow's  death. 

Thus  day  after  day  scenes  similar  to  the  one  al 
ready  described  came  up  to  relieve  or  depress  the 
convalescent  or  the  gradually  sinking  patient.  Men 
living  in  the  midst  of  suffering  and  death  soon  be 
come  accustomed  to  such  scenes,  and  nothing  is 
more  common  than  to  hear  them  jesting  during  the 
most  solemn  moments  of  their  lives.  Graham  had 
been  no  exception  to  the  general  rule.  His  death 
had  often  been  predicted  by  the  connoisseurs  of 
physical  science.  But  he  had  survived  many  of 
these  prophets  and  their  followers.  He  had  seen 
the  beds  on  either  side  of  him  emptied  during  a 
single  week.  He  had  looked  into  the  face  of  Death 
as  he  came  stealthily  into  the  ward  in  the  gloom 
and  darkness  of  the  night ;  he  had  watched  him 


THE  STATE  HOSPITAL.  169 

sink  his  bony  fingers  into  the  vitals  of  his  neighbor 
and  his  friend  ;  he  had  witnessed  the  fierce  struggle 
for  supremacy  and  the  flight  of  the  victor  with  his 
prize.  But  so  far,  thank  God,  he  had  been  spared, 
and  a  speedy  relief  vouchsafed  to  him.  The  conva 
lescence  permit  so  anxiously  looked  for  had  at  length 
been  issued  to  him,  and  the  irksome  sameness  of  a 
hospital  life  at  once  removed.  It  was  his  privilege 
now  to  breathe  a  purer  air  and  view  milder  scenes. 
In  a  short  time  he  should  get  his  discharge,  and 
again  resume  his  role  among  the  shifting  scenes 
upon  the  great  stage  of  life. 

"  Good  morning,  Goliath." 

"Ah,  good  morning,  Master  Graham.  Lovely 
morning,  this,  for  a  trip  down  the  river." 

"Yes,  the  air  is  pure  and  balmy — just  the  day 
to  exercise  your  animals,  as  the  nurse  calls  them. 
Are  you  going  to  turn  them  out  to-day  ? " 

"Oh  yes,  by  and  by.  Hadn't  you  better  walk 
over  and  get  a  good  look  at  them  ? " 

"  Well,  I  don't  know  about  that,  Goliath.  I  fear 
the  impression  such  a  sight  might  leave  upon  my 
mind." 

"  Why,  are  you  a  philanthropist  ?  If  you  are,  do 
come  over  and  get  weaned." 

"Well,  no  ;  I  am  not  a  philanthropist  in  the  full 
est  acceptation  of  the  term.  Still,  I  have  an  abiding 
compassion  for  every  one  that  suffers,  and  especially 


170  A    WINTER  EVENING'S   TALE. 

for  those  who  are  struck  intellectually  dead;  while 
the  body  is  compelled  to  perish  by  slow  torture." 

"  Yes,  but  these  chaps  are  insensible  to  pain, 
and  when  they  become  obstinate  you  can  whale 
them  with  as  much  impunity  as  you  would  an  ugly 
horse." 

"  So  it  would  seem.  But  that  privilege  does  not 
make  it  right  or  less  cruel ;  and  no  man  on  earth 
could  persuade  me  that  such  theories  are  correct, 
much  less  make  me  a  willing  supporter  of  such 
barbarous  treatment." 

"Ah,  Graham,  you  are  too  sentimental  for  your 
own  interest.  You  will  outgrow  such  notions  as 
you  ripen  in  years." 

"  I  hope  not." 

"Then  don't  covet  such  jobs  as  mine." 

"  How  is  your  patient,  the  'gladiator,'  nowadays  ? 
He  has  been  pretty  quiet  of  late.  Has  he  recov 
ered  ? " 

"  Oh  no  ;  such  cases  seldom  get  well.  It  is  only 
a  question  as  to  how  long  they  can  hold  out.  The 
chap  you  refer  to  is  dead.  Died  about  an  hour  ago, 
and  I  am  waiting  for  his  box.  Come  in  and  take  a 
look  at  him." 

The  "  gladiator's  "  quarters  were  dingy  and  small, 
the  walls  and  ceiling  were  bruised  and  slivered,  and 
here  and 'there  were  painful  evidences  of  desperate 
struggles  between  the  keeper  and  his  charge.  The 


THE  STATE  HOSPITAL.  I /I 

room  was  filthy,  and  the  stench  suffocating.  The 
dead  man  was  lying  upon  his  side,  with  his  face 
to  the  wall.  The  body,  which  was  naked  and  un 
covered,  was  wasted  and  bruised,  and  scars  and 
sores  multiplied  as  it  became  more  and  more  ex 
posed.  The  mattress  on  which  it  lay  was  in  an 
extremely  filthy  condition.  When  Goliath  touched 
the  corpse  it  fell  over  on  its  back,  and  Graham 
stepped  aside  and  uttered,  "  O  God  !  how  shock- 
ing!" 

"  If  I  'd  known  you  were  going  to  take  on  like 
that,  Graham,  you  should  n't  have  come.  What ! 
crying?  Well,  well,  well.  That  just  beats  me  all 
hollow.  Come,  you  had  better  get  out  of  this.  I 
want  no  babies  here." 

"  Wait,  Goliath  ;  wait  one  moment,  please  !  "  gasped 
Graham,  as  he  kneeled  down  beside  the  body  and 
took  the  cold,  rigid  hand  in  his. 

"  Well,  now,  that 's  funny,"  began  Goliath  to  him 
self,  taking  up  the  disabled  hand  and  examining  the 
scar  across  its  palm,  as  Graham  withdrew  in  tears. 
"  I  think  it  dreadful  funny  I  never  noticed  this  hand 
before." 

Graham  wended  his  way  to  the  office  of  the  resi 
dent  physician.  Yes,  there  was  a  record  made,  and 
it  was  entered  on  the  day  that  the  poor  lunatic  was 
assigned  to  his  present  quarters.  But  there  was  no 
name  and  no  effects.  He  had  been  brought  there 


1/2  A    WINTER   EVENING'S    TALE.      ~ 

by  the  local  authorities,  who  could  give  neither 
name  nor  anything  which  could  lead  to  his  identity. 
He  had  been  found,  it  was  said,  a  wandering  cast 
away,  without  shelter  or  protection,  and  on  account 
of  his  demented  condition  was  arrested  and  con 
signed  to  the  State  hospital.  Thus  the  secret  of 
Philip  Rugby's  fall  and  death  had  been  most  singu 
larly,  and,  still  more,  most  providentially,  intrusted 
to  his  care.  There  it  should  remain  concealed  and 
forever  buried  from  every  human  being.  His  fa 
ther's  gray  hairs  should  never  become  whiter  than 
they  were  by  the  knowledge  of  the  fall  of  his  prod 
igal  son.  His  mother's  heart  should  never  break 
in  hopeless  sorrow  for  her  idolized  boy.  Even  Jane, 
the  hope  of  his  life  and  the  companion  of  his  future 
years,  must  never  know  the  fate  which  befell  her 
wild  and  dissipated  brother. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

THE   STORM   AT    HARTWELL's    CROSSING. 

Blow  ye  tempest,  blow !  Unloose  your  strength  and  smite  the  earth  with  thun 
derbolts.  Lash  the  sea  into  fury  ;  lay  waste  the  harvests ;  bend  the  sturdy  oak, 
and  tear  it  limb  from  limb!  Uproot  the  slender  pine,  and  make  the  forests  respect 
thy  power  and  will!  Pour  down  your  rain  in  torrents,  cover  the  land  with^floods; 
drown  the  beasts  of  the  field ;  drive  the  wolf  to  his  lair,  and  the  fox  into  his  hole ! 
Howl,  crack,  and  roll  o'er  sea  and  land ;  sweep,  blast,  and  scourge  the  home  of  man. 
—  THE  AUTHOR 

ALL  was  quiet  at  Hartwell's  Crossing.  The  min 
ers  living  on  the  river  were  waiting  with  nervous 
impatience  for  the  storm  to  cease.  It  had  been  se 
vere,  and  had  continued,  with  but  little  interruption, 
for  many  weeks.  In  that  region  of  the  Sierra  Ne- 
vadas,  at  least,  the  sun  had  not  been  seen  during  all 
that  time,  but  had  been  concealed  behind  the  low 
ering  clouds,  through  which  it  had  vainly  endeavored 
to  penetrate.  Once  or  twice  the  moon  peeped 
through  the  hazy  breach,  but  it  was  only  for  a  few 
moments,  just  long  enough  to  reveal  the  fleeting 
scuds  hurrying  as  it  were  from  danger,  and,  if  pos 
sible,  beyond  the  influence  of  the  chilling,  blacken 
ing  storm.  The  trees  and  the  foliage  were  dripping 
with  the  drizzling  rain  ;  the  earth  was  saturated 
with  water  ;  the  brooklets,  filled  with  dissolving 
snows,  were  rushing  furiously  down  the  ravines,  the 


1/4  A    WINTER  EVENING'S  TALE. 

ravines  into  the  creeks,  and  the  creeks  into  the  an 
gry  rivers,  and  these,  swollen  to  twice  their  usual 
size,  rolled  grandly  along,  sweeping  everything  be 
fore  them. 

This  protracted  storm  had  covered  the  Sierra 
with  rains,  and  loosened  its  beds  of  snow.  It  had 
filled  its  water-courses  to  overflowing,  and  uniting 
them  into  vast  floods  had  covered  the  valleys  with 
disaster  and  ruin. 

The  Mokelumne  and  its  tributaries,  like  its  sister 
rivers,  were  entertaining  their  maternal  grandam, 
the  spring  freshet,  who  had  come  again,  as  was  her 
custom  once  a  year,  to  receive  their  homage,  and 
help  them  out  with  their  spring  clearings.  Now 
the  old  dame's  visits  were  not  always  fruitful  of 
good  results,  nor  were  they  at  all  times  appreciated 
by  her  progeny,  notwithstanding  their  loud  profes 
sions  of  loyalty  and  deep  devotion.  It  is  true,  the 
younger  streams  found  time  to  laugh  and  giggle 
over  what  they  were  pleased  to  term  the  old  lady's 
high  notions  and  overflowing  propensities  ;  but,  nev 
ertheless,  it  is  said  the  noise  and  needless  bluster 
she  indulged  in  had  in  a  measure  alienated  their 
affections  and  her  whims  had  become  so  hateful  to 
the  matrons  that  they  not  only  dreaded  her  com 
ing,  but  even  celebrated  her  departure  by  a  grand 
jubilee. 

Upon  this  particular  occasion,  however,  the  old 


THE  STORM  AT  HARTWELUS  CROSSING.      175 

vixen's  outpourings  were  exceedingly  gushing  and 
abundant,  and  as  if  to  make  this  visit  the  most  mem 
orable  of  any  which  had  been  known  to  the  gold 
diggers,  she  had  arranged  and  carried  out  a  pro 
gramme  somewhat  as  follows  :  First,  to  make  a  sud 
den  visit  and  a  grand  surprise  ;  then  a  rapid  rise 
and  the  scoring  of  twenty  feet  above  any  previous 
mark  known  to  the  "  oldest  inhabitant ;  "  take  com 
plete  possession  of  all  water-courses,  cover  every 
bar,  inundate  all  the  flats,  sweep  away  all  bridges, 
turn  out  of  house  and  home  every  miner  within  her 
reach,  suspend  all  branches  of  industry,  and  carry 
terror  and  consternation  into  every  heart  that  loi 
tered  in  her  way  ;  and,  lastly,  cut  off  all  retreat  and 
supplies,  prolong  her  visit,  wear  out  her  welcome, 
and  hold  between  two  rivers  a  number  of  miners 
destitute  of  food  and  shelter^ 

Among  the  few  cabins  which  had  escaped  the 
general  destruction  was  that  of  the  Hudson  Mining 
Company.  The  members  of  the  company,  like  their 
neighbors  whose  camps  had  survived  the  ravages  of 
the  flood,  had  thrown  open  their  doors  and  given 
protection  to  these  stricken  men  until  the  floods 
should  subside  and  the  rivers  become  fordable.  To 
the  prolonged  severity  of  this  storm,  therefore,  and 
the  necessity  which  compelled  a  sojourn  within  the 
camp  of  these  generous  strangers,  are  we  indebted 
for  the  incidents  which  are  given  in  this  and  suc 
ceeding  chapters. 


J/6  A    WINTER  EVENING'S   TALE. 

Beautifully  situated  upon  a  sloping  piece  of  ground, 
shaded  by  a  magnificent  growth  of  heavy  timber,  and 
commanding,  as  it  did,  a  fine  view  of  the  river,  with 
its  varying  landscape  spread  out  before  it,  this  charm 
ing  mountain  home  at  once  became  a  mark  of  at 
traction,  and  in  fact  it  was  the  leading  feature  of 
Hartwell's  Crossing.  It  was  a  double,  story-and-a- 
half  cabin,  substantially  built,  with  an  air  of  comfort 
pervading  it,  and  stood  alongside  the  trail  that  came 
up  from  the  Crossing  and  led  to  the  small  settle 
ments  back  in  the  mountains.  A  handsome  buck 
deer,  and  several  carcasses  of  wild  game,  including  a 
grizzly  bear  cub,  were  being  dressed  for  the  larder, 
and  stretched  upon  various  trees,  and  on  the  sides 
of  the  cabin,  were  a  number  of  skins  placed  there  to 
dry. 

There  was  a  peculiar  coziness  about  the  "  Nur 
sery,"  as  the  boys  were  in  the  habit  of  calling  the 
general  mess-room,  which  was  apparent  to  every  one 
that  stepped  within  its  walls,  and  its  arrangements 
were  so  complete  that  they  could  scarcely  fail  to 
captivate  the  senses.  Indeed,  there  was  such  an 
effusion  of  "  Home,  Sweet  Home  "  about  the  prem 
ises  that  the  visitor  could  hardly  weary  of  its  home 
like  cheerfulness  or  the  warmth  and  cordiality  of 
its  proprietors. 

Upon  entering  the  "  Crib,"  as  the  cook-room  was 
named  in  contradistinction  to  the  Nursery,  the  vis- 


THE  STORM  AT  HARTWELUS  CROSSING.       1 77 

itor  would  observe  a  variety  of  robes  and  skins  hang 
ing  about  the  walls,  together  with  a  number  of  fancy 
hunting-frocks,  buckskin  leggings,  and  ponchos. 
On  one  side,  and  suspended  to  wooden  pegs,  were 
the  rifles  and  their  accompanying  powder-flasks, 
bullet-pouches,  and  hunting  knives,  which  were 
bright  and  clean,  denoting  their  continued  readiness 
for  any  emergency.  Over  the  fire-place,  which  was 
broad  and  deep,  and  arranged  with  singularly  good 
taste,  was  displayed  a  peculiar  assortment  of  trophies 
gathered  by  their  owners  at  various  times  and  places, 
and  bearing  labels  which  gave  the  dates  of  their 
capture  and  such  information  as  to  their  origin  as 
could  be  obtained.  There,  for  instance,  were  the  In 
dian's  bow  and  quiver  of  arrows  captured  from  such 
a  tribe  ;  pipes  and  tomahawks  found  upon  the  bodies 
of  the  chiefs  left  dead  upon  the  plains,  on  the  retreat 
from  an  unsuccessful  raid.  There  were  the  Mexi 
can  saddles  with  their  splendid  trappings,  bridles 
and  mammoth  spurs,  with  jingling  bells,  the  broad 
sombrero,  bright  scarlet  sashes,  the  lariats  coiled 
up  like  serpents  ready  to  spring,  and  their  deadly 
nooses  hanging  passively  upon  the  pegs  in  the  walls. 
Then,  upon  a  shelf,  by  themselves,  were  a  fine  col 
lection  of  gold,  quartz,  silver,  and  iron  ores.  Beyond 
these  trinkets  and  odd  souvenirs,  and  piled  up  to  the 
rafters,  was  to  be  seen  something  of  far  more  inter 
est  to  the  practical  eye,  and,  in  the  present  condition 
12 


i;8  A    WINTER  EVENING'S   TALE. 

of  things,  of  superior  importance  to  every  one  water- 
bound  by  this  vast  deluge,  namely,  an  ample  stock 
of  supplies.  It  would  have  made  a  man  hungry  to 
see  the  great  sacks  of  flour  that  were  piled  up  in 
one  corner  —  and  quieted  any  apprehensions  of  fam 
ine  to  behold  the  sides  of  bacon,  hams,  jerked 
meats,  bags  of  dried  fruits,  pockets  of  Java  coffee, 
jars  of  pickles,  cans  of  preserves,  and  boxes  of  sar 
dines,  that  were  distributed  upon  the  shelvings  on 
either  side  of  the  cabin.  Then,  again,  the  visitor 
could  not  have  failed  to  notice  in  the  "  cook's  cor 
ner"  bags  of  sugar,  rice,  beans,  firkins  of  salt  pork, 
butter,  and  lard,  and  lastly,  but  none  the  less  de 
serving  of  especial  mention,  were  the  three  iron- 
bound  kegs  which  were  carefully  horsed  upon  a  rack 
between  the  chimney  corner  and  the  window.  One 
contained  vinegar ;  the  other  held  sugar-house  syrup 
from  New  Orleans,  heavy  bodied,  rich,  and  of  excel 
lent  flavor  ;  the  last  one  was  filled  with  —  well,  it 's 
of  no  particular  consequence  what  it  contained. 

"  You  are  not,"  began  the  loquacious  Colonel,  ad 
dressing  the  visitors  (the  Colonel  was  at  that  time 
an  aspirant  for  political  honors,  and  anxious  to  cre 
ate  a  good  impression  upon  every  occasion),  —  "  you 
are  not,"  he  again  resumed  with  becoming  dignity, 
"  more  thankful,  my  friends,  for  a  miner's  welcome, 
than  we  are  for  the  cause  which  has  compelled  you 
to  become  our  guests.  To  the  wandering  habits  of 


THE  STORM  AT  HARTWELJJS  CROSSING.      179 

man,  therefore,  and  his  free  interchange  of  views  — 
brought  about  in  many  instances  by  accident  rather 
than  by  design,  and  perhaps  not  greatly  dissimilar 
to  the  one  which  has  brought  us  together  to-night 
—  has  the  world  long  been  indebted  for  its  wonder 
ful  progress,  and  its  inhabitants  for  the  singular  dis 
coveries  of  hidden  treasures  so  long  hoarded  for  the 
uses  of  man." 

"  Hi,  yah,"  yelled  Hughes,  spitting  over  his  shoul 
der. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,"  said  the  Colonel,  choking 
off  that  unruly  member  and  waving  his  hand  author 
itatively,  "  I  am  addressing  the  company's  guests, 
and  not  you.  Let  us  hope,  my  friends,"  he  re 
sumed,  "  there  may  spring  from  this  fortuitous  meet 
ing  a  friendship  which  shall  increase  with  years, 
and  perish  only  when  freshets  are  unknown  and 
water  ceases  to  run.  Supper  is  now  ready  ;  please 
be  seated." 

There  was  a  slight  disposition  on  the  part  of 
Hughes  and  Billings  to  congratulate  the  Colonel  for 
this  sublime  outburst  of  eloquence,  but  the  recipi 
ent  of  these  intended  favors  kindly  suppressed  them 
in  the  bud,  and  closed  the  effusions  of  praise  by 
exclaiming  :  "  Pass  up  your  plates,  gentlemen,  and 
be  served.  We  have  for  this  evening's  meal,  venison 
steak  broiled  over  a  bed  of  live  coals ;  cub  bear 
steak  spit  toasted  before  a  quick,  sharp  fire  ;  grouse 


ISO  A    WINTER  EVENING'S   TALE. 

fricasseed  and  served  in  butter  gravy  ;  rabbit  pot 
pie,  with  Yale  crust,  —  what  can  I  serve  you  to  ? 
Gentlemen  will  please  pass  the  side  dishes  and  serve 
our  guests  with  such  delicacies  as  their  appetites 
may  crave." 

There,  reader,  did  you  ever  sit  down  to  such  a 
meal  as  that  ?  Look  at  that  pyramid  of  steaming 
hot  biscuit.  Did  you  ever  see  snow-flakes,  fresh 
from  the  clouds,  that  could  surpass  them  in  white 
ness  ?  Do  look  at  those  slapjacks  ;  what  a  sight. 
Why  they  are  as  big  as  a  dinner  plate,  and  brown 
as  a  Creole's  foot  This  is  where  the  sugar-house 
syrup  makes  a  point. 

"  Yes,  coffee,  if  you  please  — thank  you." 

Talk  about  Belshazzar's  feast  and  the  delicacies  of 
Delmonicos  :  why,  they  are  no  more  to  be  compared 
to  this  bill  of  fare  than  a  pippin  to  Mount  Shasta. 

"  Stewed  peaches  ?  No,  thanks  — not  any.  Pre 
serves  ?  Oh,  no  —  never  eat  them.  Pie,  did  you 
say  ?  Well,  yes  —  small  piece.  Thank  you,  noth 
ing  more.  Don't  urge  —  please  don't." 

"  Now,  gents."  The  Colonel  got  up,  senatorial 
fashion,  and  with  a  face  beaming  with  smiles  and 
gestures  equal  to  the  occasion,  said,  blandiloquently : 
"  Now,  gents,  if  you  have  finished  your  suppers,  let 
us,  before  leaving  the  table,  decide  upon  some  sort 
of  a  programme  for  the  evening's  entertainment. 
What  shall  it  be, — cards,  checkers,  or  dominoes? 


THE  STORM  AT  HARTWELL'S  CROSSING.      l8l 

In  making  up  your  games,  don't  forget  your  guests, 
boys.  Please  to  nominate." 

"  That's  right,  Colonel ;  you  just  suits  me,  you  do 
—  that 's  business,"  said  Perkins,  from  Willow  Bar, 
with  an  approving  smile,  and  bowing  with  mock 
gravity  to  the  "  chair." 

"  If  it  is  in  order,  Mr.  Speaker,"  began  Hughes, 
methodically,  and  addressing  that  acknowledged 
functionary  with  parliamentary  precision,  and  tak 
ing  his  cue  from  Perkins's  bombastic  allusions  to  a 
presiding  officer.  "  If  it  be  in  order,"  he  again 
sang  out,  having  been  jerked  down  into  his  seat 
with  more  force  than  elegance  by  his  colleague,  "  I 
should  much  prefer  to  hear  a  good  old-fashioned 
story  —  or  a  song,  for  that  matter." 

"  Hear,  hear  !  " 

"  I  shall  vote  that  ticket  every  time,  Mr.  Modera 
tor,"  put  in  Billings  from  Dry  Creek,  as  he  rose 
majestically,  and  stove  the  heel  of  his  boot  through 
the  top  of  a  nail  keg,  and  calmly  proceeded  to  fill 
his  pipe.  "  I  deeply  regret,  sir,  having  disfigured 
this  piece  of  furniture,"  he  resumed,  apologetically, 
"  but  allow  me  to  say,  that  if  the  gentleman's  sug 
gestion  becomes  the  law,  I  shall  call  upon  some  one 
present  to  furnish  us  with  "  A  boat,  a  boat  to  cross 
the  ferry." 

"  Everything  now  indicates,  Mr.  President,  that 
we  are  on  the  eve  of  another  great  flood,"  suggest 


1 82  A    WINTER  EVENING'S    TALE. 

ively  remarked  McClellan  of  Fiddle  Town,  rever 
entially  acknowledging  the  chair.  "In  which  case 
the  ferry  would  about  encompass  the  earth.  Let  me 
hope,  sir,  that  the  boat  will  be  equal  to  the  occasion, 
and  that  the  second  Mount  Ararat  shall  be  founded 
at  Hartwell's  Crossing." 

"Well  done,  Mac.     Good  for  you,  boy  !  " 

"  Mr.  Chairman,  we  are  digressing  from  the  main 
question,"  began  Whittemore  from  Gregg's  Canon, 
with  a  stiff,  congressional  air.  "  The  gentleman's 
sorry  attempts  at  witticism,  dull  and  insipid  as  they 
are,  would  no  doubt  upon  some  other  occasion  prove 
highly  acceptable  to  all,  but  in  view  of  the  question 
before  the  house,  you  will  agree  with  me,  that  we 
are  drifting  away,  gentlemen,  drifting  away  from 
our  friend's  motion  ;  therefore  I  move  the  previous 
question." 

"  The  gentleman  —  I  beg  pardon  —  one  moment, 
please.  The  gentleman  has  found  time,  while  occu 
pying  the  place  of  his  betters,  to  cast  reflections  " 
—  ("  Order  !  order  !  ")  —  "  just  a  moment,  please,  — 
just  a  moment," — persisted  Hamilton  from  Stony 
Bar,  striking  the  table  furiously  with  his  plug  of  to 
bacco,  —  "  he  has  pleased  to  insinuate  "  —  ("  Order  ! 
order  !  ")  —  and  the  gentleman  resumed  his  seat 
violently  agitated. 

"  Let  us  put  the  question  in  form,  Mr.  Speaker, 
as  they  do  at  town  meeting,  and  then  vote  upon  it," 


THE  STORM  AT  HARTWELUS   CROSSING.      183 

hopped  in  Mathews,  bringing  his  palms  together 
with  a  whack  that  sounded  like  the  bursting  of  a 
bladder. 

"  Mr.  Moderator,"  began  Tibbetts. 

"  Question,  question  !  " 

"  If  it  be  your  minds,  gentlemen,"  said  the  chair, 
amid  a  babel  of  tongues,  "to  adopt  the  following 
resolution,  you  will  please  manifest  it  in  the  usual 
way  :  '  Resolved,  that  this  meeting  do  now  adjourn 
to  the  crib  and  devote  this  entire  night  to  story, 
song,  and  mirth.'  Are  you  ready,  gentlemen?  " 

"  All  ready  !  " 

"  What  say  you  ?  " 

"  Aye  !  " 

"It  is  unanimous.  But,  good  heavens,  why  do 
you  make  such  a  racket  ?  Is  there  a  roof  left  above 
our  heads  ?  " 

Every  man  instinctively  looked  up,  and  withdrew 
with  eyes  filled  with  frolic  and  faces  beaming  with 
smiles. 

There  is  an  indescribable  charm  in  the  brightness 
of  a  cheerful  fire,  and  it  is  never  more  enjoyable,  per 
haps,  than  when  seen  in  an  open  grate.  You  are 
apt  to  appreciate  it  upon  a  cold  winter's  night,  and 
more  especially  when  listening  to  a  pitiless  storm 
as  the  wind  is  howling  above  your  house  and  the 
snow  comes  drifting  against  the  window  pane.  It 
puts  you  in  a  happy  frame  of  mind  and  fills  you 


1 84  A    WINTER  EVENING'S   TALE. 

with  social  comforts.  Besides,  it  seems  to  warm 
you  all  over,  as  it  were,  with  a  sort  of  self-satisfying 
quietude,  which,  while  it  aids  you  in  modifying  the 
discomforts  of  your  own  life,  lessens  assuredly  your 
sense  of  the  evil  too  often  seen  in  the  lives  of 
others.  If  the  ordinary  coal  fire  can  produce  such 
grateful  influences  in  a  quiet  New  England  home, 
what  must  have  been  the  effect  of  the  mammoth 
fires  which  were  the  joy  and  the  pride  of  the  cabin 
life  that  accompanied  the  pathfinders  in  their  march 
to  civilization  ?  What  must  have  been  the  effect, 
think  you,  upon  the  minds  of  the  assembled  guests 
as  they  gathered  around  that  great  roaring  wood  fire 
at  Hartwell's  Crossing  ?  Why,  it  was  simply  elec 
trical,  and  every  man  there  that  night,  as  he  sat 
filling  his  pipe  before  its  bright  and  cheerful  glow, 
felt  as  happy  as  though  the  mail  had  arrived,  bring 
ing  him  glad  tidings  of  great  joy  from  hearts  yearn 
ing  for  him  in  his  dear  old  cottage  home. 

"  Graham,  it  seems  to  be  the  general  wish,"  began 
the  Colonel,  as  he  took  down  his  pipe  from  the 
mantel-piece  and  settled  back  against  the  wall  for 
a  comfortable  smoke,  "that  you  favor  this  company 
with  a  story." 

"  I  am  sorry,  boys,  you  should  have  chosen  one 
so  illy  prepared ;  but  if  reminiscences  can  be  made 
available,  I  have  no  objection  to  telling  you  of  a 
narrow  escape  I  met  with  at  the  Eagle  Roost  on 
the  Yuba  River." 


THE  STORM  AT  HARTWELUS  CROSSING.      185 

"All  right,"  said  the  Colonel,  "let  us  have  the 
incident,  I  feel  quite  sure  it  will  be  appreciated." 

"  Hold  on  a  moment,  Graham,"  said  Tibbetts, 
"  while  we  fix  the  fire  a  little,"  and  several  armfuls 
of  wood  were  added,  if  that  were  necessary  to  in 
crease  the  magnificent  blaze  which  went  roaring  up 
the  chimney. 

"  Now,  boys,"  began  Graham. 

"Just  a  moment  longer,  please,"  said  Hamilton, 
"while  we  arrange  the  seats.  Nothing  is  more  an 
noying  to  a  story-teller  than  to  be  disturbed  in  the 
midst  of  his  story." 


CHAPTER   XIII. 

MAMMON,    GOD    OF    MONEY. 

'T  was  eight  bells  when  our  mate  Malloy 
Gruffly  cried,  "  Starboard  watch  ahoy ! " 
That  from  a  sleep  so  sound  I  woke. 

There  never  was  a  wish  concealed 
Beneath  a  joy  that  seemed  so  real, 
There  never  was  a  hope  more  vain 
Concealed  beneath  a  lust  for  fame, 
There  never  was  a  joy  more  brief, 
There  never  was  such  poignant  grief, 
As  came  to  me  in  that  strange  dream. 

THE  AUTHOR. 

"  I  WAS  all  alone  at  the  Eagle  Roost,"  began  Gra 
ham,  as  soon'  as  the  boys  were  ready,  "waiting  for 
my  friends  to  return  from  an  expedition  to  the  head 
waters  of  the  Yuba,  and  during  this  interval  I  was 
working  on  a  river  claim,  trying  to  earn  enough  to 
replenish  the  supplies  in  case  the  boys  should  re 
turn  flat  broke.  As  was  my  custom  after  supper,  I 
strolled  down  to  the  river  and  took  a  seat  on  a 
smooth  rock  at  the  water's  edge,  that  overlooked  a 
deep  eddy  which  swung  round  under  the  bank  some 
twenty  feet  below  where  I  sat.  There  I  remained 
for  some  time  absorbed  in  my  own  thoughts.  I  had 
become  deeply  anxious  about  the  safety  of  the  expe- 


MAMMON,    GOD   OF  MONEY.  l8/ 

dition  and  the  return  of  my  friends.  The  season 
was  growing  late  ;  I  was  suffering  from  the  extreme 
loneliness  of  my  situation  ;  and  my  mind  had  be 
come  feverish  from  the  uncertainty  attending  their 
unaccountable  delay  in  returning  home.  Thus  I 
sat  watching  the  trail  that  led  down  from  the  ridge 
and  terminated  at  the  flats  beneath  Eagle  Mount 
ain.  I  was  watching  this  trail  for  the  first  glimpse 
of  the  returning  party,  which  would  relieve  my 
anxiety  and  solve  the  mystery  of  their  prolonged 
absence.  In  fact,  I  had  become  lost  in  a  deep  and 
painful  reverie,  in  which  my  own  reverses  seemed 
the  most  prominent.  The  privations  and  sufferings 
which  I  had  endured,  the  bitter  disappointments, 
and  my  present  impoverished  condition,  had  passed 
in  review.  I  was  recalling  certain  of  my  acquaint 
ances  who  had  made  their  pile  and  gone  to  their 
homes  to  receive  the  smiles  and  congratulations  of 
their  friends.  I  was  just  thinking  of  my  mortgaged 
home  and  the  aching  hearts  beneath  its  roof, —  so 
helpless,  so  poor  in  purse,  and  yet  so  rich  in  affec 
tion,  —  and  discussing  in  my  mind  what  would  be 
come  of  them  if  I  did  not  soon  return  and  redeem 
the  one  and  comfort  the  other,  when  at  that  mo 
ment  a  boat  shot  out  from  behind  a  ledge  of  rocks 
and  glided  swiftly  down  towards  me. 

"  It  was  an  old-fashioned  dug-out,  and  its  occu 
pant  an  old  man  dressed  in  the  garb  of  a  miner,  and 


1 88  A    WINTER  EVENINGS   TALE. 

unarmed.  His  hair  and  beard  were  white  as  snow 
and  fell  in  heavy  masses  down  to  his  waist.  He 
paddled  his  canoe  dexterously  up  to  the  bank  below 
where  I  sat,  and  rising  to  his  feet  looked  up  into 
my  face  and  said,  *  Halloo  ! '  I  answered  '  Hilloo  ! ' 
and  scanned  him  closely  from  head  to  foot,  —  for  I 
was  surprised  to  see  this  man,  supposing  there  was 
not  a  human  being  foolish  enough  to  settle  above 
the  Eagle  Roost  on  the  South  Yuba.  I  never  saw 
a  nobler  specimen  of  physical  man  before.  I  never 
saw  a  more  venerable  countenance,  or  eyes  that 
expressed  such  tenderness  or  held  such  magnetic 
power.  In  fact,  he  was  grand  and  princely,  and 
beautiful  to  look  upon. 

"  'What,  he  said,  '  are  ye  all  alone  down  here  ?' 

" '  Yes,'  I  replied  ;  '  all  alone.' 

" '  Well,  what  are  ye  doing  ? ' 

"  '  Working  a  river  claim.' 

"  '  How  does  it  pan  out  ? ' 

" '  Not  worth  a  cent.'  And  I  then  added  :  '  How 
are  you  doing  up  your  way  ? ' 

"'Well,  I  have  done  doing,  young  man.' 

"  '  How  so  ?     Have  you  made  your  pile  ?' 

"  '  Oh,  yes  ;  I  have  got  all  the  gold  I  want.' 

" '  Perhaps  you  would  like  to  sell  an  interest  in 
your  claim.' 

" '  Well,  I  don't  know  but  that  I  would.' 

"  '  What  are  your  terms,  sir  ? ' 


MAMMON,    GOD   OF  MONEY.  1 89 

"  '  Well,  there  are  no  terms,  my  boy ;  only  share 
my  camp,  sign  articles  of  copartnership,  take  all  the 
gold  you  can  find  use  for,  and  go  home  and  enjoy 
all  the  happiness  that  gold  can  purchase.' 

"  '  And  you  —  what  is  to  become  of  you  ? ' 

"  '  Well,  that 's  of  little  consequence.  But  if  you 
wish  it,  I  '11  go  home  with  you.  We  '11  add  our 
wealth  together,  making  one  mammoth  fortune, 
monopolize  the  avenues  of  trade,  get  up  a  corner  in 
gold,  and  control  the  destinies  of  kingdoms  and  em 
pires.' 

" '  Can  I  depend  upon  what  you  say,'  I  said,  daz 
zled  with  the  stupendous  offer. 

"  '  Yes,  you  can.' 

" '  I  will  take  you  at  your  word.' 

"  '  All  right ;  jump  in.' 

"  And  I  did ;  and  the  boat  darted  out  into  the 
stream.  The  sun  had  long  since  disappeared  be 
hind  the  western  hills,  and  the  moon,  following  in  its 
wake,  had  risen  above  the  highest  peaks  in  the  Si 
erra  Nevadas.  The  solitude  was  grand  and  beauti 
ful,  the  moon's  silvery  beams  penetrated  the  vapory 
veil  which  hung  over  the  yawning  canons  and 
lighted  up  their  wild  and  ghostly  scenes.  On  sped 
the  boat.  Not  a  word  had  been  spoken  by  either. 
Never  had  my  heart  felt  such  rapture  before  ;  never 
before  had  such  a  transition  from  black  despondency 
to  the  highest  pinnacle  of  bliss  been  mine  to  enjoy  ; 


1 90  A    WINTER  EVENING'S   TALE. 

and  as  I  looked  into  his  warm,  friendly  face,  I  felt 
the  utmost  faith  in  the  purity  of  his  visit  and  the 
most  tender  affections  ripening  in  his  favor. 

"  I  began  to  feel  that  perhaps  I  was  entering  upon 
a  more  propitious  season  of  life  ;  that  maybe  my 
unfortunate  days  had  culminated,  and  that  the  evil 
spirit  which  had  so  long  held  me  in  bondage  had 
been  superseded  by  one  less  vindictive  if  not  wholly 
impartial.  How  beautiful  and  pure  were  my  long 
ings,  how  sweet  and  hopeful  my  dreams.  How 
many  were  the  air  castles  I  built,  and  how  grand 
the  schemes  I  conceived,  as  the  boat  skimmed  over 
the  stream.  What  a  dazzling  future  was  before  me  ; 
how  fabulous  the  wealth  that  was  mine  ;  how  exalt 
ing  my  aims  ;  how  delightful  the  delusions  of  the 
hour.  What  would  I  not  do  for  those  who  had 
loved  me  in  poverty.  Ah,  what  would  I  not  do  to 
those  who  had  crushed  me  in  weakness  and  stifled 
my  appeals  with  scorn  ! 

"  At  last  we  rounded  the  ledge  of  rocks  from 
whence  I  had  first  seen  the  boat  proceed,  and,  pass 
ing  through  a  vapory  cloud,  entered  the  mouth  of  a 
cave  of  inky  blackness,  and  I  saw  no  more. 

"  Up  to  this  moment  I  had  not  suspected  the  ob 
ject  of  this  man's  visit,  nor  doubted  the  goodness  of 
his  intentions.  No,  not  a  shadow  of  suspicion  had 
crossed  my  mind,  but,  on  the  contrary,  I  had  re 
garded  myself  as  one  of  the  most  fortunate  of  men, 


MAMMON,   GOD   OF  MONEY.  19  T 

and  my  companion  the  grandest  type  of  the  good 
Samaritan.  Yet  the  blackness  of  this  cave,  the  un 
earthly  noises  which  seemed  to  menace  me  upon 
every  side,  together  with  the  dead,  chilly  atmosphere 
and  the  singular  silence  of  my  partner,  had  aroused 
a  dreadful  fear,  which  so  wrought  upon  my  sensibil 
ities  that  it  awakened  the  most  painful  apprehen 
sions  for  my  safety.  In  fact,  I  had  become  so  terri 
fied  at  my  situation  that  it  seemed  as  though  I 
should  die  from  fright  and  nervous  prostration. 

"  My  suspicions  soon  assumed  a  more  definite 
form,  and  I  saw  but  too  plainly  the  plot  that  had 
been  set  on  foot  to  decoy  me  away,  and  realized  for 
the  first  time  the  magnitude  of  the  imposition  prac 
ticed  upon  me.  Yes,  the  deception  was  perfect,  the 
capture  complete,  and  I  was  doomed,  aye,  doomed  to 
some  tragic  death. 

"  You  see,  boys,  I  had  been  dissatisfied  with  my 
humble  estate,  and  continually  murmuring  at  the 
simplicity  of  my  calling.  I  had  fallen  a  prey  to  my 
lust  for  gold.  I  had  been  blinded  by  avarice  and 
decoyed  into  the  realms  of  some  monster  of  evil. 

"  I  have  never  been  able  to  estimate  the  time  we 
were  in  this  subterranean  passage  nor  the  distance 
we  made  to  reach  the  golden  cavern  in  the  bowels 
of  the  Sierra  Nevada  ;  but  just  before  I  was  taken 
in  charge  by  the  attendants,  who,  it  appeared,  had 
already  arrived  at  the  lodge  in  anticipation  of  my 


192  A    WINTER  EVENING'S   TALE. 

arrival,  a  powerful  light  burst  upon  me,  relieving  at 
once  the  terrible  gloom,  and  I  opened  my  eyes  to 
behold  a  most  wonderful  scene.  As  the  boat 
skimmed  along  over  the  sparkling  waters  and  shot 
through  the  complex  caverns,  I  discovered  a  number 
of  great  vaults  which  were  full  of  immense  treas 
ures.  Everything  I  saw  was  literally  full  of  gold 
and  silver  and  precious  stones.  The  arches,  the 
pillars,  the  walls,  aye,  even  the  waters,  sparkled  and 
danced  with  gold  and  jewels.  In  fact,  the  brilliancy 
of  the  scene  was  overwhelming,  and  I  was  only  too 
glad  of  a  change. 

"  The  moment  the  boat  touched  the  steps,  which 
were  of  solid  gold,  my  conductors  smote  the  wall 
before  which  we  stood  with  their  golden  staffs,  and 
at  the  same  instant  exclaimed  :  'All  hail,  monarch 
of  the  Sierra  Nevadas,  all  hail  ! '  The  partition 
moved  instantly  to  one  side  and  we  passed  in,  —  that 
is,  myself  and  guides,  —  for  to  my  surprise  I  found 
that  my  partner  had  disappeared.  The  scene  which, 
now  opened  itself  to  my  wondering  gaze  beggars 
description,  and  I  stood  transfixed  with  joy  and 
amazement.  Why,  boys,  it  was  a  veritable  grotto, 
so  rich,  so  gorgeous,  that  I  almost  lost  my  breath 
as  I  beheld  it.  It  seemed  to  me  it  must  have  been 
cut  out  of  a  solid  mountain  of  gold,  for  the  walls 
were  of  gold,  the  ceiling  was  of  gold,  intermixed 
with  gems  which  sparkled  with  great  brilliancy  and 


MAMMON,    GOD   OF  MONEY.  193 

beauty.  The  floor  was  of  gold  and  silver  interlaid 
in  mosaic  form,  and  piled  upon  it  in  different  places 
were  great  heaps  of  gold  dust.  Some  of  these  heaps 
were  of  fine  river  gold,  others  of  a  coarser  nature, 
the  grains  varying  from  an  ounce  to  a  hundred 
pounds  in  weight.  The  columns  which  supported 
the  dome  were  of  solid  gold,  and  the  magnitude  of 
this  vast  vault  of  treasures  was  so  enormous  that 
my  mind  failed  to  comprehend  its  stupendous  vast- 
ness.  The  chandeliers,  of  the  most  exquisite  de 
signs  and  of  marvelous  workmanship,  were  of  gold, 
as  were  the  chains  by  which  they  were  suspended. 
The  tables,  the  chairs,  the  sofas,  divans,  and  other  ar 
ticles  of  furniture  were  also  of  gold.  The  walls  were 
variously  adorned  by  ornaments  and  emblems  of 
diamonds,  pearls,  and  other  rare  gems.  The  vases 
were  filled  with  flowers  of  rare  beauty,  which  im 
pregnated  the  air  with  their  perfumes,  and  these,  as 
also  the  frames  which  held  the  works  of  the  great 
est  artists  known  to  civilization,  were  of  gold  and 
decorated  with  diamonds  and  rubies.  In  the  centre 
of  this  temple  of  wealth  and  splendor  >tood  an  al 
tar.  In  form  and  appearance  it  resembled  an  im 
mense  bowlder.  It  was  twenty  feet  high,  and  as 
many  in  circumference :  its  weight  and  value  could 
only  be  estimated.  It  was  of  solid  gold,  weighing 
several  tons,  and  worth  as  many  millions  of  dollars. 
Upon  the  top  of  this  golden  altar,  and  arrayed  in  all 
13 


IQ4  A    WINTER  EVENING'S   TALE. 

the  magnificence  that  wealth  could  procure,  stood 
Mammon,  the  god  of  money.  In  one  hand  he  held 
a  golden  scroll,  and  in  the  other  a  pen  richly  orna 
mented.  His  garments  were  of  pure  white  silk  dec 
orated  with  the  most  beautiful  and  costly  jewels. 
A  crimson  sash,  spangled  with  pearls,  was  wound 
about  his  waist.  He  wore  upon  his  head  a  crown  of 
great  beauty,  and  from  its  apex  sparkled  a  diamond 
of  immense  size  and  of  dazzling  brilliancy. 

"  In  this  abode  of  elegance,  in  the  centre  of  this 
extravagant  splendor,  surrounded  by  treasures  too 
colossal  for  computation,  stood  —  who  ?  —  why,  my 
partner  —  the  King  of  the  Sierras.  There  he  stood, 
a  strange  and  seductive  power,  beautiful  in  per 
son,  dignified  in  figure,  and  dazzling  to  look  upon. 
Indeed,  as  I  gazed  into  his  deep-set  eyes,  and  saw 
the  fatherly  tenderness  in  the  fullness  of  his  face, 
as  I  stood  in  the  sunshine  of  his  smiles,  and  felt 
the  warmth  of  his  compassion  fall  upon  me,  I  be 
came  disarmed  ;  my  fears  vanished,  my  suspicions 
fled  as  a  breath  of  air,  and  I  again  surrendered  to 
his  beguiling  snares.  My  attendants  now  led  me  to 
the  altar  and  placed  me  upon  a  large  and  richly  or 
namented  rug,  and  bowing  with  deep  reverence  to 
his  majesty,  and  kissing  in  humble  submission  the 
rock  of  gold,  withdrew  and  we  were  alone.  Sweet 
and  fairy-like  music  now  filled  the  temple,  which 
lifted  me  up,  as  it  were,  and  I  became  enchanted  and 


MAMMON,    GOD   OF  MONEY.  195 

dazed  by  the  brilliancy  of  my  surroundings.  When 
the  chant  had  subsided,  there  came  from  various 
parts  of  the  grotto,  exclamations  of  this  nature  :  — 

"'All  hail,  Mammon,  god  of  money;  all  hail!' 
'  We  worship  thee,  O  King  and  Prince  of  wealth,  all 
hail ! '  '  Great  sovereign,  monarch  of  the  Sierra 
Nevadas,  all  hail ! '  '  Before  thee,  Great  Ruler,  all 
nations  bow,  to  thee,  all  hail  ! '  '  Unto  thee,  O  Gold, 
all  powerful  Prince,  cometh  the  people,  and  casting 
themselves  down  before  thee,  clap  their  hands  with 
joy,  and  cry,  Lift  thy  servants  up,  enrich  us,  O  Mam 
mon,  that  we  may  glorify  thy  name  forever  ! ' 

"  Now  my  partner  waved  his  hand  and  the  temple 
was  wrapped  in  silence. 

" '  You  recognize  me,  do  you  ? '  he  asked. 

"  '  Yes,  you  are  my  partner,'  I  replied. 

"  '  That  is  to  be,'  he  said,  smiling,  and  then  added : 
'This  is  my  claim.  I  have  not  deceived  you.' 

"  '*  It  is  wonderful,'  I  said,  gravely  ;  *  most  wonder 
ful.' 

"  '  When  you  asked  me  what  were  my  terms,'  he 
continued,  '  to  become  an  equal  partner  in  this  claim, 
I  told  you  they  were  to  share  my  camp,  sign  arti 
cles  of  copartnership,  draw  out  all  the  moneys  you 
could  use,  and  be  happy.  Are  you  ready  for  busi 
ness  ?  ' 

" '  I  am,'  I  replied,  dazzled  by  the  scene  about 
me. 


196  A    WINTER   EVENING'S   TALE. 

"  '  This/  he  resumed,  '  is  but  the  anteroom  to  my 
palaces  and  domains  ;  and  the  wealth  you  see  here 
is  but  a  drop  in  the  bucket  compared  to  that  which 
you  are  yet  to  see.  This  chamber  will  no  more  com 
pare  with  what  is  yet  to  come,  than  the  darkness 
through  which  you  passed  on  your  way  hither  can 
compare  with  the  brightness  of  the  noonday  sun. 
Sign  this  compact,  bow  down  and  kiss  this  golden 
rock ;  and  prepare  yourself  to  behold  the  grandeur 
of  my  domains,  and  enjoy  the  splendors  of  my 
throne.' 

"  '  Read  the  compact ! '  I  said,  excitedly. 

"  Unfolding  the  beautifully  figured  scroll,  my  part 
ner  read  as  follows  :  — 

"  God  of  heaven,  and  earth,  and  sea  ;  Thou  who 
giveth  man  and  taketh  him  away ;  Thou  who  sepa- 
rateth  the  wheat  from  the  chaff,  immortalizing  the 
one  and  casting  out  the  other,  O  hear  me.  For  be  it 
known  unto  Thee,  great  Jehovah,  that  this  day  hath 
appeared  unto  me,  the  signer  of  this  compact,  who 
voluntarily  and  of  his  own  free  will  alienates  him 
self  from  Thee  and  Thy  throne  forever :  And  further 
be  it  known,  that  it  is  his  purpose  and  desire  to 
transfer  his  allegiance  unto  me,  his  future  sovereign, 
king,  and  master.  In  my  presence,  therefore,  and 
in  Thy  sight,  he  doth  solemnly  affirm  and  take  oath, 
that  from  this  day,  henceforth,  he  denieth  Thee  and 
Him  who  died  upon  Calvary ;  that  he  renounces  all 


MAMMON,    GOD   OF  MONEY.  197 

relationship,  both  worldly  and  spiritually,  and  now 
seeks  in  my  dominions  that  which  hath  been  denied 
unto  him  in  Thine,  namely,  Gold.  Henceforth  and 
for  eternity  he  knows  no  other  god  before  me. 
And  in  token  whereof  he  hath  bowed  down  before 
me  and  sealed  this  copartnership,  by  first  kissing 
this  rock  of  gold,  and  signing  the  compact.' 

"  I  listened  to  the  reading  of  this  covenant  with 
death,  with  sickening  fear,  and  shocked  with  horror. 
The  terms  were  but  too  plain  ;  their  significance 
could  not  be  misunderstood.  If  they  meant  any 
thing,  they  meant  just  this  :  a  life  of  pleasure,  lux 
ury,  and  ease  ;  a  few  brief  years  of  purchased  tri 
umphs,  and  then  what  ?  An  unconditional  surren 
der  of  both  body  and  soul  ;  a  life  of  pomp  and 
glory,  and  then  —  death  and  eternal  damnation. 
The  sacrifice,  it  seemed  to  me,  was  too  great,  too 
appalling.  I  could  never  yield  to  such  conditions. 
But  could  I  consent  to  return  again  to  poverty  and 
the  sickening  details  of  an  impoverished  life  ?  Could 
I,  with  these  golden  opportunities  within  my  very 
reach,  stoop  again  to  humiliation  and  want  ?  Go 
back  and  humbly  eke  out  a  miserable  existence? 
No,  never  [  Then,  again,  with  this  boundless  wealth 
at  my  command  I  could  go  home,  remove  the  mort 
gage  from  our  cottage  home,  adorn  and  beautify  it 
still  more,  if  that  were  yet  possible,  and  place  my 
mother  in  affluent  circumstances,  and  make  her  de- 


198  A    WINTER  EVENING'S   TALE. 

clining  years  the  brightest  of  her  whole  life.  And, 
again,  I  could  satisfy  the  great  yearnings  of  my 
heart,  and  remove  forever  the  canker  which  was  eat 
ing  out  my  life  and  destroying  my  peace  of  mind. 
I  would  marry  Jane  —  Excuse  me,  boys  —  I  forgot 
myself.  I  get  a  little  weak,  you  see,  as  I  near  the 
threshold  of  my  old  home.  Forget,  please,  that  I 
mentioned  her  name.  But  there,  it  is  all  right. 
Perhaps  you  have  been  there,  too.  However,  as  I 
was  saying,  I  would  marry  Jane  —  the  purest  little 
gem  of  a  girl,  boys,  you  ever  laid  eyes  on.  Yes,  I 
would  marry  Jane." 

"That 's  what  you  said,"  put  in  Baxter;  "that's 
just  what  you  said,"  he  repeated,  a  little  annoyed  at 
the  useless  repetition. 

"  Do  let  the  boy  go  on  ! "  rang  out  several  voices. 

"  Go  on,  Graham,  go  on,"  said  the  Colonel,  warmly. 

"  Well,  boys,  as  I  was  saying,  —  now  don't  inter 
rupt  me,  please,  —  I  would  marry  Jane  " — 

"  Confound  that  girl,  grunted  Tibbetts,  somewhat 
irritated. 

"  Oh,  do  let  the  man  alone.  Please  let  him  tell 
the  story,"  put  in  Billings,  savagely. 

"  Go  on,  Graham  ;  do  please  go  on,"  said  the  Col 
onel,  persuasively. 

"  I  would,"  resumed  the  narrator,  "build  a  mag 
nificent  castle  upon  Rugby  Farm,  and  live  and  love 
the  balance  of  my  days.  Yes,  with  this  vast  fortune 


MAMMON,   GOD   OF  MONEY.  199 

I  could  do  a  deal  of  good,  and  perhaps,  at  the  end 
of  a  well-spent  life,  redeem  my  mortgaged  soul  by 
bequeathing  my  colossal  fortune  to  some  charitable 
institutions.  Yes,  gold  I  must  have  —  gold  I  would 
have  —  gold  at  any  sacrifice  —  I  would  have  gold. 

"  '  Partner,'  I  said,  '  I  am  ready.  If  I  am  to  sign 
the  bond,  it  were  better  it  were  done  quickly,'  and  I 
fell  upon  my  knees  before  the  altar,  —  there,  with 
the  pen  in  one  hand,  and  the  golden  compact  in  the 
other,  I  leaned  forward  to  press  my  lips  upon  the 
block  of  gold. 

"  But  I  failed  to  do  it,  boys.  I  did  n't  kiss  Mam 
mon  that  night.  Neither  did  I  sign  the  compact. 
For  just  as  I  was  about  to  commit  that  nefarious 
wrong,  there  shot  up  before  my  gaze  a  picture  of  my 
mother's  face,  and  I  fell  back  overwhelmed  with 
fright  and  astonishment.  The  profile  was  perfect, 
the  expression  of  anguish  deep  and  uncontrollable ; 
the  eyes,  though  partly  closed,  were  full  of  tears. 
She  held  an  open  Bible,  in  such  a  manner  that  I 
could  not  fail  to  comprehend  the  purpose  of  her 
visit  or  the  significance  of  the  passage  to  which  her 
finger  pointed.  The  vision  came  and  went,  as  a  flash 
of  light,  and  I  saw  it  no  more  ;  but  in  that  instant  I 
saw  her  head  bowed  in  humility  and  prayer,  her 
beautiful  face  bathed  in  tears,  her  heart  bursting 
with  grief,  and  her  finger  resting  upon  that  awful 
passage  :  '  For  what  shall  it  profit  a  man  if  he  shall 


20O  A    WINTER  EVENINGS   TALE. 

gain  the  whole  world  and  lose  his  own  soul  ?  *  I 
see  that  sweet  image  to-night,  boys  —  just  as  clear 
and  defined  as  I  did  two  years  ago,  when  it  saved 
me  from  bartering  away  both  body  and  soul  for 
gold." 

"  Come,  Graham,  don't  stop ;  do,  pray,  go  on." 
"  Well,  there 's  but  little  more  to  tell,"  remarked 
the  story-teller,  as  he  reached  for  a  fire-brand  to 
light  his  pipe.  "As  soon  as  I  had  recovered  from 
the  effects  of  the  vision  I  saw,  I  sprang  to  my  feet, 
renounced  my  allegiance,  and  denounced  the  com 
pact.  I  declared  it  my  purpose  to  retire  from  this 
accursed  influence  and  return  again  to  the  Roost.  I 
openly  refused  a  compromise  with  death  and  obliv 
ion,  preferring  the  most  abject  poverty  with  a  hope 
ful  life  and  a  calm  and  beautiful  future  guarantied. 
This  sudden  and  unexpected  change  of  front  so  en 
raged  the  god  of  money  that  he  declared  I  should 
suffer,  as  I  deserved,  an  ignominious  death.  He  rang 
the  bell  which  formed  the  canopy  above  his  head,  and 
men,  like  Roman  gladiators,  in  tunics  of  gold,  and 
armed  with  golden  battle-axes,  came  from  every  di 
rection,  and  instantly  closed  in  around  me. 

" '  Take  this  snivelling  penitent ! '  said  the  angered 
king,  '  and  mount  ye  upon  the  highest  cliff  of  our 
domains,  and  without  mercy,  or  a  moment's  time  for 
prayer,  hurl  him  headlong  into  the  yawning  abyss 
below  !  Away  with  him  !  Let  me  see  his  face  no 
more  !  Begone ! ' 


MAMMON,   GOD  OF  MONEY.  2OI 

"Well,  boys,  I  thought  we  should  never  reach 
the  place  of  execution.  It  was  up,  up,  up,  through 
winding  slopes,  over  broken  and  ragged  ledges,  over 
furious  streams,  and  by  roaring  cataracts.  But  at 
length  we  arrived  upon  the  verge  of  a  deep  and 
blackened  precipice,  and  preparations  were  at  once 
made  for  carrying  the  sentence  into  effect.  They 
gathered  me  up  in  their  arms,  and  bore  me  along  to 
the  farthest  point  that  it  was  possible  for  them  to 
reach  in  safety,  and  told  me  to  close  my  eyes  and 
pray.  The  waning  moon  was  faintly  seen,  hiding 
its  face  in  the  lofty  peaks  of  the  Sierra  Nevadas, 
its  lingering  beams  resting  upon  their  hoary  heads 
dimly  seen  against  the  blackening  sky.  The  silence 
was  awful,  and  my  approaching  doom  too  horrible  to 
dwell  upon.  The  supreme  moment  arrived,  and  in 
the  few  seconds  that  were  spared  to  me,  the  whole 
of  my  life  passed  swiftly  in  review.  It  was  one  of 
which  I  had  no  reason  to  be  ashamed.  It  was  one 
that  assured  me  of  a  peaceful  future  and  calm  re 
pose,  and  I  awaited  the  end  with  fortitude  and  hope 
ful  resignation. 

"  We  had  now  reached  the  outer  edge  of  this  fright 
ful  hell,  and  my  executioners,  having  braced  them 
selves  firmly  for  the  purpose,  swung  my  body  to  and 
fro.  When  the  desired  momentum  was  gained,  they 
counted  in  solemn  measure,  one,  two,  three,  and 
tossed  me  headlong  over  the  precipice,  and  to  my 


2O2  A    WINTER  EVENING'S   TALE. 

death.  The  descent  was  so  rapid,  the  fall  so  pro 
longed,  that  my  reason  and  sense  of  terror  seemed 
to  have  left  me,  with  the  exception  of  sufficient  life 
and  consciousness  to  realize  that  I  was  plunging 
down,  down,  down,  headlong  to  destruction.  But, 
singular  as  it  may  seem,  the  moment  my  body  struck 
the  water,  that  instant  my  reason  returned,  and  I 
rose  to  the  surface  struggling  for  life.  I  floated 
with  the  current  for  a  few  seconds,  and  fortunately 
caught  the  overhanging  branch  of  a  willow-tree,  and 
swinging  myself  in  shore,  made  one  grand  and  su 
preme  effort  for  life.  Boys,  I  was  saved."  And 
again  the  narrator  caught  a  fire-brand  and  applied 
it  to  the  bowl  of  his  pipe. 

A  silence  of  some  moments  ensued,  and  during 
the  puff,  puff,  puff,  which  escaped  from  the  smoker's 
lips,  the  little  clouds  of  smoke  rolled  away  in  the 
chimney  corner. 

"  Well,  how  is  it  ?  "  said  Hughes,  inquiringly.  "  I 
kind  o'  like  the  story ;  but  the  conclusion  is  about 
as  clear  as  mud  —  at  least,  it  is  so  to  me  ! " 

Another  silence,  during  which  every  man  looked 
into  the  narrator's  face  for  an  explanation. 

Puff,  puff,  puff,  and  then  the  narrator  said,  with  a 
benignant  smile,  "  Why,  boys,  it  was  only  a  dream." 

"Julius  Caesar!"  broke  out  Mathews  ;  "I  sus 
pected  as  much  !  " 

"  Fell  asleep,  eh  !  "  said  Byfield. 


MAMMON,   GOD   OF  MONEY.  20$ 

"  Yes,"  said  the  Colonel,  drawing  a  long  breath ; 
"  rolled  over  the  bank  into  the  river,  —  that 's  a  good 
un,  boys  ;  that 's  a  good  un.  Let 's  take  some 
thing  "  —  and  they  did. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 
DEADMAN'S  BAR. 

"  The  raven  croaks 

By  day,  the  owl  by  night,  —  such  affinities  are 
The  present  tenants  of  Deadman's  Bar." 

"  GRAHAM,"  said  the  Colonel,  "  the  courtesies  of 
this  camp  permits  the  story-teller  to  choose  his  suc 
cessor.  Please  to  nominate." 

"  Robert  Baxter,"  he  answered. 

"  Gentlemen,  allow  me  to  introduce  to  you,  Robert 
Baxter  of  Mokelumne  Hill,  one  of  the  earliest  pio 
neers  to  the  northern  mines,  and  among  the  first 
settlers  on  the  North  Fork  of  the  American  River." 

Baxter  responded  as  follows  :  — 

Boys,— 

Did  you  ever  hear  of  Andy  McQuaid, 
The  Sidney  cove  that  fled  from  the  judge's 
Stand,  and  jumped  into  the  canon  at 
Deadman's  Bar,  and  was  drowned  ? 
No  ?  never  heard  of  him  ?     Well  now,  that 's  funny ; 
But  there,  I  '11  tell  ye  the  story.     For  he  was 
Quite  a  chap  in  his  day,  and  then  his  name 
Deserves  a  place  upon  the  calendar  of  fame. 


DEADMAN'S  BAR. 

We  dammed  the  river,  ye  see,  at  Deadman's  Bar, 
And  Andy  was  our  president.     His  face  was 
Exquisitely  fashioned  for  the  part  he  assumed,  — 
That  of  a  minister  of  the  Orthodox  persuasion. 
His  keen  gray  eye  sparkled  in  our  evening 
Councils,  and  his  oily  tongue  frequently 
Calmed  the  troubled  waters.     And  then,  again, 
He  was  fearfully  sweet  when  he  said  Amen. 


Twelve  hundred  ounces  were  taken  from  our 
Claim  one  day.     And  that  night  we  sat  in  the 
President's  tent,  feasting  our  eyes  upon  its  glittering 
Scales,  filling  as  it  did  a  twelve-quart  pan, 
For  when  the  morrow  dawned  the  dividend 
So  declared  would  amply  repay  each  man 
For  his  week's  exposure  and  cold  j  — 
But  there,  what  won't  a  man  do  for  gold. 

The  night  wore  heavily  by,  as  such  nights  often 
Do  when  the  mind  's  disturbed  by  delusive 
Dreams.     Just  as  the  sentry,  upon  his  lonely  round 
Steals  a  nap,  and  sees  his  home  again, 
So  in  my  troubled  sleep  I  saw  the  pan  of 
Gold  increase  in  size,  and  rise  to  such 
Proportions  that  my  poor  heated  brain 
Fairly  reveled  in  luxury  and  fame. 

Ah,  what  's  that  ?     Surely  it  was  not  the  wind, 
And  the  wolf  never  trod  thus  heavily  !     Why  it 
Was  a  human  foot  feeling  its  way  through  the  camp. 


206  A    WINTER  EVENING'S   TALE. 

Yes,  there  was  the  figure  bent  down  with  weight, 
Sneaking  through  the  trees,  even  surpassing  the  wolf 
In  his  flight,  as  he  stole  away  in  the  night. 
Boys,  if  ever  a  man  in  a  vision  was  seen, 
I  saw  McQuaid  that  night  in  my  dream. 

The  morning  came,  but  the  gold  was  gone, 
And  vengeance  stared  each  man  in  the  face ; 
Stolen,  it  was  said,  in  the  night.     And  Father 
McQuaid,  more  dead  than  alive,  paced  the  camp 
And  solemnly  cried  :  "  Boys,  lay  up  your  treasures 
In  heaven,  where  moth  nor  rust  can  corrupt, 
Nor  thieves  break  through  and  steal !  "     And  then 
Went  down  upon  his  knees  and  prayed  again. 

Thus  the  day  wore  on,  and  in  twos  and  threes  the 
Men  sat,  with  blackened  brows,  along  the  river  bank 
In  the  cool  evening  breeze.     And  dark  suspicion 
Like  a  pall  of  death  hung  over  all. 

"Tom,"  said  I  to  my  trusted  friend,  as  we  stood  beneath 
The  willows  on  the  bar,  "  I  saw  in  my  dream  last  night 
A  thief  bearing  our  gold  away.     Watch  my  hand 
As  it  carves  his  name  in  this  bed  of  sand." 

"What!"  said  he,  struck  dumb  with  surprise;  "is  it 

Father 

McQuaid  ?  that  venerable  man,  whose  guilt  I  see 
Traced  here  in  the  sand  ?     'T  is  hard,  Bob,  to  believe 
Our  boys  could  become  so  grossly  deceived." 

"  Let 's  prove  it  to-night,  Tom.    We  '11  both  stand  guard 


DEADMAN'S  BAR.  2O/ 

And  watch  this  hypocrite  from  now  till  dawn, 
And  possibly  prove,  though  we  get  no  reward, 
That  the  ways  of  transgressors  are  fearfully  hard." 

The  night  was  dark  but  clear,  as  Tom  and  myself 
Followed  the  president  through  brambles  and  briers, 
Over  ledges  and  rocks,  down  gulches  and  streams, 
Adroitly  as  detectives  shadow  their  man. 
There,  with  his  mule  cleverly  concealed,  we  watched 
Him  arrange  his  pack  for  flight.     But,  quick  as  a 
Flash,  we  sprang  by  his  side.     Then  with  a  bound 
We  hurled  him  a  prisoner  down  to  the  ground. 

There  were  no  jails,  nor  degrees  of  crime  in  those  days ; 
No  splitting  of  hairs,  nor  juries  to  sway  by  forensic 
Eloquence  ;  no  "  extenuating  circumstances  "  —  for 
Lawyers  and  justices  were  oftener  the  criminals  ; 
No  nice  points  of  law  raised  to  hold  the  court 
In  doubt  and  muddle  the  jury.     And  besides, 
The  judge  meant  just  what  he  said, 
And  criminals  were  hung  by  the  neck  till  dead. 

We  meant  business.     He  knew  it,  hence  the  resistance 
Was  severe  and  prolonged.    He  fought  and  struggled, 
And  swore  as  he  fought,  blaspheming  the  air  and 
Blistering  the  night  winds  with  sulphurous  oaths. 
Never  did  man  fight  more  bravely  or  surrender 
A  life  more  reluctantly  than  did  Father  McQuaid. 
And  when  overpowered,  like  a  panther  encaged, 
He  glared  at  his  keepers  in  fury  and  rage. 


2O8  A    WINTER  EVENING'S   TALE. 

In  a  grove  back  from  the  river,  on  a  sloping  bluff, 
The  court  convened.     Astride  a  mule,  with 
Hands  lashed  behind  him,  sat  Father  McQuaid, 
Beneath  the  loftiest  pine  awaiting  his  death. 
Among  the  withered  leaves  and  under  the  scaffold  tree 
The  miners  sat,  spectators  of  this  strange,  sad  scene,  — 
They  were  the  judge  and  jury  —  and  had  come 
To  see  the  bogus  parson  hung. 

Upon  his  mule  he  sat  erect,  with  defiance 

Strongly  marked  upon  his  face.     He  calmly 

Watched  the  hangman  lower  the  rope,  and 

Felt  the  noose  pass  his  head,  and  rest  upon 

His  beating  heart.     No  language  can  describe 

The  prisoner's  hate,  as  taunts  and  jeers 

Alike  came  up  from  friend  and  foe.    No  tongue  can  tell 

What  passed  within  that  soul  of  hell. 

"  Andy  McQuaid,"  said  the  judge,  "you  are  a 
Wolf  in  sheep's  clothing  —  a  fraud  and  a  bunch 
Of  deception.     You  have  proven  recreant  to  your 
Friends  and  stolen  the  funds  intrusted  to  your  care. 
In  this  unsullied  land  a  crime  is  a  crime. 
You  stand  convicted  a  thief,  and  must  die. 
The  court  gives  you  five  minutes  —  and  then 
Prepare  yourself  to  meet  your  end." 

"  'T  is  little  I  Ve  got  to  say,  judge,  and  but  one  favor 
To  ask.     As  you  have  seen  fit  to  respite  me  five 
Minutes,  let  me  enjoy  them  as  I  would. 


DEADMAWS  BAR.  2CQ 

Release  these  hands.     I  would  confess,  and  while 
Confessing  brace  my  shattered  nerves  with  one  last 

smoke. 

I  am  a  brave  man,  yer  honor ;  I  do  not  fear  death. 
I  am  but  one  ;  you  are  forty  strong.    Come,  sir,  be  kind. 
Mercy  should  precede  a  fate  as  hard  as  mine. 

"  Thanks,  yer  honor,  the  cords  were  tight  and  cut  me 
To  the  bone.     'T  was  a  generous  act,  for  which  I  'm 

deeply 

Grateful.     I  confess,  sir,  to  deeds  of  graver  import 
Than  the  one  I  'm  charged,  each  of  which  has  a 
Prior  claim  upon  this  wretched  life  of  mine. 
I  am  a  banished  cracksman  bearing  an  assumed 
Name.   I  am  all  that 's  bad  —  a  worthless,  prodigal  son — 
A  wandering  outcast  —  and  deserve  to  be  hung. 

"  Baxter,"  he  said,  beckoning  me  with  his  hand, 
"  Lend  me  your  pipe."     And  as  I  passed  it  up,  he 

Hissed  into  my  ear  a  curse,  and  spake  these  words : 
"  Bob,  you  swore  my  life  away.     One  chance  is  left 
Me  for  escape  —  if  successful  we  shall  meet  again. 
Good-by,  judge;  good-by,  Baxter,  good-by,  all.    When 
I  toss  this  pipe  away  and  nod  my  head,  why 
Twitch  me  up,  judge,  and  let  me  hang  till  dead. 

"  Ah  !  "  he  cried  in  feigned  alarm,  staring  wildly  up  at 
The  ridge,  and  slipping  the  noose  from  his  head,  — 
"  Look,  judge  !  look  to  your  safety,  men  !     For  thick  as 
hail 

14 


210  A    WINTER  EVENINGS   TALE. 

The  Indians  are  rushing  down  on  the  trail ! " 
Thex  moment  each  eye  looked  back  on  the  hill 
He  drove  his  heels  in  the  flanks  of  his  mule,  and 
Away  he  dashed  over  plaza  and  fell,  like 
A  demon  escaped  from  the  pits  of  hell. 

I  tell  ye,  boys,  't  was  a  wonderful  sight,  to  see  McQuaid 
Leap  in  his  flight  the  rocks  and  brambles  and  fallen 
Trees  —  and  then  again  dismount  his  mule,  and 
Scale  the  precipitous  cliff  on  hands  and  knees, 
But  there  he  stood  on  the  edge  watching  the  boys 
Closing  the  lines  about  him.     Then  doffing  his  boots 
And  tightening  his  belt,  he  cast  his  eyes  first  to  his  foe 
And  then  into  the  seething  gulf  below. 

Five  hundred  feet  was  a  fearful  leap  for  a 
Man  to  take  with  a  hope  of  escape.     But  he  took  it. 
And  every  miner  hurried  away  to  the  river's  edge 
To  see  his  body  go  down  with  the  stream. 
They  searched  each  crevice  and  hole  for  miles 
Away,  and  dragged  the  bed,  but  found  him  not. 
And  weeks  and  months  flew  by.     Then  it  was  said 
He  must  have  perished  ;  he  must  be  dead. 

Perhaps  a  year  had  passed  away,  and  Tom 
And  myself  were  returning  from  the  Corners,  and 
'T  was  while  crossing  the  divide  between  Dixon's  and 
BardwelPs  ranch,  that  the  sequel  to  this  story  came. 
You  remember  the  trail  that  winds  like  a  serpent 
Around  the  elbow  at  Langley's  Gulch,  and  the  curve 


DE ADMAN'S  BAR.  211 

Over  the  deep  abyss,  where  the  rocks  like  tombstones 

in  a  row 
Loom  up  spectre-like  in  the  cleft  below  ? 

We  had  reached  this  point,  and  Tom  was 
Congratulating  me  for  doubling  the  stakes  on  the 
Flush  I  held  the  night  before,  when,  startled  by  a 
Rock  thundering  upon  us,  I  had  no  time  to 
Speak,  but  dodged  the  blow  which  passed  me 
Like  an  arrow  and  struck  my  friend, 
And  both  disappeared  from  sight 
Like  a  shooting  star  in  the  gloom  of  night. 

Before  I  had  recovered  from  this  dreadful  scene 
A  man  covered  with  dust  sprang  into  the  trail 
And  faced  me.     He  knew  my  name,  for  he  said, 
"  Baxter,  I  am  your  convict  friend,  Andy  McQuaid  ! " 
Boys,  I  was  amazed  —  struck  dumb  with  fright  — 
And  gazed  into  his  evil  eyes  with  dread  forebodings. 
Then  he  drew  his  knife,  and  approached  me  with  a 

smile 
That  made  me  tremble,  boys,  —  tremble  like  a  child. 

Had  a  grizzly  bear  risen  in  my  path  and  faced 
Me  with  a  death  as  horrible  as  the  human  mind 
Conceives^  I  could  have  leaped  where  to  have  followed 
Would  have  been  instant  death. 
But  from  this  monster  there  was  no  escape,  and 
Fully  did  I  realize  the  dreadful  death,  should  I 
Fail  to  kill  this  man.     I  must  clutch  this  foe 
And  dash  him  to  pieces  upon  the  rocks  below. 


212  A    WINTER  EVENING'S  TALE. 

"  No  greater  wonder  has  fallen  to  my  eyes,  than  to 
Behold  you  here  alive,  McQuaid,"  I  began ; 

"  No  greater  joy  has  fallen  to  my  lot  since  I  was 
Born,  than  cut  your  heart  out !  "  he  replied,  with  scorn. 

"  I  am  unarmed,  you  see,  and  have  not  sought  this  • 
Conflict ;  yet,  if  God  loves  justice  and  the  devil  has 
Given  you  away,  your  time  has  come,  as  it  should, 
And  your  thirst  for  blood  will  end  in  blood." 

I  never  could  tell  what  passed  through  my  mind 

As  his  knife-blade  gleamed  in  the  sun  as  the  lightning 

Flashes  along  the  sky.     I  cannot  tell  how  the  fight 

Began :  I  can  only  tell  how  it  came  to  an  end. 

The  struggle,  I  know,  was  fierce  and  long,  and 

At  times  I  thought  my  hour  had  come,  as  he 

Held  me  down,  with  knife  in  hand,  and 

We  rolled  and  tumbled  on  the  rocks  and  sand. 

The  last  I  remember,  we  stood  by  the  cliff  overhang 
ing 

The  deep,  yawning  gulf  below —  that  both  were  locked 
In  deadly  embrace.     Then  suddenly  over  the  brink 
We  fell,  headlong,  down  together. 
It  seems  we  struck  a  sapling  tree  which  broke 
Our  hold,  and  bending  down  laid  me  safely  upon 
The  ground.     There,  bruised  and   bleeding,  I  sought 

my  foe, 
And  found  him  dead  on  the  rocks  below. 

A  withered  pine,  blackened  and  blazed,  stands 

At  the  head  of  Deadman's  Bar.     In  the  sombre  hues 


DEADMAN'S  BAR.  213 

Of    the   fading   day   it   is   a  spectre   both   grim    and 

brave,  — 

A  fitting  monument  for  Andy  McQuaid. 
The  bar  is  deserted,  now,  and  the  hills  and  stream 
Forever  seem  rapt  in  some  terrible  dream, 
The  spot  is  cursed ;  it  is  known,  wherever  you  are, 
As  the  haunted  canon  or  Deadman's  Bar. 

Each  year  some  wandering  prospector  camps  upon 
This   bar  —  desecrates    his   grave    and   unearths   his 

bones ; 

But  while  he  loiters  there  the  ghostly  form  of 
Andy  McQuaid  is  nightly  seen  upon  the  canon's 
Dome.     There  it  stands,  doffing  its  boots,  and 
Girthing  its  belt  about  its  waist.     Then,  tossing  its 
Hat  away,  leaps  into  the  air,  and,  'tis  said, 
The  spirit  sinks  again  to  its  watery  bed. 

The  bar  's  unworked,  the  soil  seems  cursed  with 
Death,  and  nothing  springs  from  its  blighted  womb 
But  weeds  ;  snakes  crawl  among  its  rocks  ;  lizards 
Snap  upon  its  heated  sands  ;  scorpions  bed  in 
The  moldering  trunks  of  felled  trees,  and  toads 
Spit  in  the  poisonous  air ;  the  raven  croaks 
By  day,  the  owl  by  night,  —  such  affinities  are 
The  present  tenants  of  Deadman's  Bar. 


CHAPTER   XV. 

THE   DESTRUCTION    OF    SACRAMENTO   CITY. 

Fire,  Fire,  Fire! 
Rang  out  from  streets  and  lanes : 

Fire,  Fire,  Fire! 

The  city's  enveloped  in  flames. 
Up  in  the  midnight  sky 
The  burning  sparks  shot  high. 
'Mid  cries  of  fear  and  moans  of  woe 
The  fireman  battled  the  fiery  foe. 

Fire,  Fire,  Fire! 
Burst  out  from  slumber  and  rest; 

Fire,  Fire,  Fire! 

Went  out  from  darkness  and  death. 
Chimneys  and  walls  fell  in, 
Increasing  the  horrible  din, 
And  men  fell  back  in  blank  despair, 
As  flames  engulfed  the  city  fair. 

THE  AUTHOR. 

WE  next  find  Frank  Graham  keeping  a  small  res 
taurant  at  No.  3  K  Street,  Sacramento  City,  and  the 
sign  which  swung  over  the  sidewalk  was  conspicu 
ous  for  one  thing.  It  told  the  new-comer  where  he 
might  get  served  with  an  oyster  stew  for  one  dollar, 
—  a  treat  which  few  ventured  to  indulge  in,  even 
in  that  land  of  promise.  The  business  was  over 
for  the  day,  and  he  was  quietly  making  up  his  cash 
accounts  preparatory  to  closing  his  saloon  for  the 
night.  Just  then  two  young  men  were  seen  at  the 
door  surveying  his  premises,  and  a  moment  later 


THE  DESTRUCTION  OF  SACRAMENTO   CITY.   21$ 

they  walked  forward  and  took  seats  at  a  table.  It 
was  hard  to  tell  just  who  or  what  these  men  were. 
The  largest  of  the  two  wore  a  "  stove-pipe  "  hat,  a 
blue  flannel  shirt,  and  a  linen  duster.  The  other  a 
woman's  night-cap,  a  striped  calico-shirt,  and  a  pair 
of  blue  overalls  girded  tightly  round  the  waist. 
There  was  mischief  there  of  some  sort,  and  though 
nothing  was  said  which  gave  him  a  clew  to  their 
occupation,  yet  from  their  strong,  muscular  frames, 
bronzed  features,  and  that  peculiar  forecastle  odor, 
he  became  convinced  they  were  sailors  just  ashore 
on  a  spree.  They  called  for  oysters,  and  were 
served,  and  during  the  half  hour  they  remained 
amused  themselves  greatly  at  his  expense.  He 
kept  cool,  however,  and  allowed  the  boys  the  fullest 
latitude  for  rude  remarks  and  quaint  suggestions. 
Upon  their  paying  their  bill,  he  passed  out  the  ci 
gars,  and  a  moment  later  they  disappeared  in  the 
darkness  of  the  night. 

Two  hours  later,  while  playing  euchre  with  a  party 
of  friends  at  his  lodgings,  the  cry  of  fire  came  up 
quick  and  shrill  from  the  vicinity  of  J  and  Fourth 
streets.  The  alarm  becoming  general,  they  dropped 
their  cards  and  started  out.  It  was  a  chilly  No 
vember  night,  the  wind  blowing  from  the  northwest. 
The  dust  followed  them  in  clouds  as  they  hurried  to 
the  scene  of  the  conflagration. 

A  great  fire  is  a  painful  and  exciting  spectacle 


2l6  A    WINTER  EVENING'S   TALE. 

wherever  it  happens  ;  but  for  them  it  was  peculiarly 
distressing,  because  they  were  so  isolated  that  no 
assistance  could  be  brought  in  season  to  prevent  the 
total  annihilation  of  their  young  and  prosperous 
city.  Before  midnight  the  fire  had  become  master 
of  the  situation ;  the  fire  department  was  utterly 
demoralized,  and  the  doomed  city  abandoned  to  its 
fate.  The  usual  frantic  efforts  were  made  to  save 
property,  and  there  was  the  utmost  confusion  and 
inseparable  jams  of  overloaded  teams.  The  piercing 
cries  of  women  and  children  were  heard  as  they  be 
came  separated  from  each  other  in  the  lurid  glare  of 
that  night  of  horrors.  The  flames  spread  with  great 
rapidity,  sweeping  everything  before  them,  right  and 
left,  and  very  soon  reached  Second  Street.  The 
heavens  were  lighted  up  for  miles  around,  and 
thousands  of  wild  brants,  attracted  by  the  light, 
flew  into  the  vortex  of  death  and  were  burnt  to 
ashes  ere  they  reached  the  ground. 

The  safety  of  his  place  of  business  now  became 
of  paramount  interest  to  Graham,  for  every  dollar 
he  possessed  in  the  world  was  invested  there  ;  and 
to  be  left  destitute  in  the  morning  without  even  a 
shelter  or  means  to  take  him  to  the  mines,  was  not 
to  be  thought  of  for  a  moment.  But  what  could  he 
do  ?  What  could  a  man  with  one  arm  do  in  such  a 
frightful  situation  ?  He  never  could  tell  just  how 
he  got  to  the  corner  of  J  and  Front  streets.  He 


THE   DESTRUCTION  OF  SACRAMENTO  CITY.   2 1/ 

had  a  faint  recollection  of  being  jammed  through  an 
awning,  and  escaping  through  the  second  story  of 
some  store,  and  leaping  out  of  the  rear  window  into 
a  back  street.  He  remembered,  also,  his  efforts  to 
scale  a  barricade  composed  of  merchandise,  house 
hold  effects,  trunks,  drays,  horses  and  mules,  dead 
and  alive,  piled  up  in  one  immense  inextricable  mass. 
But  who  can  imagine  his  surprise  to  find  upon  his 
arrival  at  the  Arbor  his  new-made  acquaintances 
standing  in  front  of  his  saloon  door,  one  swinging 
his  "  stove-pipe  "  hat  in  the  most  exciting  manner, 
while  the  other  grasped  him  warmly  by  the  hand,  and 
hoarsely  assured  him  they  had  waited  for  full  one 
hour  in  deep  anxiety  to  protect  him  from  impending 
danger  and  save  his  stock  in  trade.  This  was  done 
so  far  as  practicable.  Every  movable  article  of  any 
value  was  removed  and  deposited  under  the  button- 
wood  trees  high  up  on  the  levee,  the  pictures  and 
mirror  hanging  upon  the  walls  being  the  last  things 
saved,  —  and  these  at  the  sacrifice  of  the  "  stove 
pipe  "  hat  and  linen  duster* 

They  had  accomplished  all  that  was  possible,  and 
then,  weary  and  sad,  they  settled  down  among  the 
saved  goods,  and  watched  the  fire-fiend  lap  up  the 
few  remaining  blocks  which  marked  the  lines  of 
their  unfortunate  city.  What  a  ghastly  picture  — 
twenty  thousand  people  huddled  together  on  the 
outskirts  of  a  city  nearly  destroyed  by  fire,  wearily 


218  A    WINTER   EVENING'S   TALE. 

and  painfully  watching,  from  among  the  fragments 
of  their  fortunes,  their  proud  and  beautiful  city  go 
down  into  dust  and  ashes. 

The  cool  but  sharp  November  wind  bit  the  thinly- 
clad  sufferers.  The  moon  had  disappeared  behind 
the  Coast  Range,  and  in  the  gloom  and  bitterness 
of  the  early  morning,  Graham's  sailor  friends  gave 
him  a  brief  history  of  themselves,  and  then  proposed 
to  assist  him  to  start  a  coffee  stand  just  where  they 
were  as  soon  as  it  was  sufficiently  light  to  make  the 
necessary  arrangements.  A  couple  of  pork  barrels 
brought  from  the  schooner,  filled  with  stones,  with 
a  charred  door  found  among  the  d/bris,  answered 
the  purpose  of  a  table.  An  old  jib-stay-sail  found 
in  the  vessel's  locker  made  a  capital  table-cloth,  while 
a  rope,  from  the  same  source,  fastened  to  stakes 
driven  deep  into  the  ground,  formed  a  hollow  square, 
into  which  he  moved  and  formally  opened  the  first 
dining-table  among  the  famishing  people,  on  the 
morning  after  the  destruction  of  the  city  of  Sacra 
mento,  November,  1852.  • 

His  new  friends,  who  appeared  to  him  so  repul 
sive  in  the  light  of  his  chandelier  the  night  before, 
and  left  such  a  disagreeable  impression  behind  them, 
rebuked  him  for  his  suspicions,  and  convinced  him 
by  their  deeds  that  many  a  well-balanced  head  may 
rest  under  a  shabby  hat,  and  many  an  honest  heart 
beat  under  a  ragged  shirt.  They  were  a  part  of  the 
crew  of  the  schooner  Eliza  Downes,  of  Belfast, 


THE  DESTRUCTION  OF  SACRAMENTO  CITY.   219 

Maine,  laden  with  light  house-frames  and  builder's 
materials,  shipped  for  an  adventure,  and  owned  by 
officers  and  crew.  They  had  but  just  arrived  from 
the  "  States,"  and  were  awaiting  an  opportunity  to 
discharge  their  cargo.  They  had  gone  ashore  in 
search  of  the  "  elephant ;  "  and  though  strangers  in 
the  place,  and  with  scarcely  any  interest  in  the  fate 
of  the  stricken  city,  they  made  up  their  minds,  when 
they  saw  how  matters  were  going,  if  it  were  possi 
ble,  to  do  a  "good  turn  for  the  lame  man"  at  No.  3 
K  Street.  They  were  very  fortunate  in  the  dis 
posal  of  their  cargo,  for,  owing  to  a  dearth  of  build 
ing  materials  in  the  burnt  city,  they  not  only  found 
a  ready  sale,  but  received  such  prices  as  gave  them 
a  most  generous  return  for  their  venture. 

The  schooner's  signal  for  all  hands  to  report  for 
duty  brought  about  a  hasty  but  painful  separation. 
They  were  to  discharge  cargo,  then  leave  their 
moorings  and  sail  immediately  for  San  Francisco, 
and  thence  homeward.  Graham  wrung  their  hard 
but  faithful  hands  as  though  his  friendship  dated 
back  to  the  same  district  school  away  down  among 
the  pine-trees  that  shaded  their  humble  homes  on 
the  banks  of  the  Penobscot  River.  As  he  bade 
them  i;ood-by  the  tears  rolled  down  his  cheeks.  At 
the  last,  when  the  gang-plank  went  in  over  the  side 
of  the  schoorer,  and  she  dropped  out  into  the  stream, 
he  swung  high  in  air  his  tattered  Panama  and  re 
turned  to  his  duties. 


CHAPTER   XVI. 

POOR  MAN'S  CREEK. 

u  With  joy  I  leave  the  sunny  land 

That  tempted  me  to  roam. 
A  last  farewell,  bright,  golden  strand, 

For  I  am  going  home. 
No  longer  can  the  gold  god  keep 

My  feet  on  stranger  ground ; 

Play  on,  play  on,  ye  billows  wild, 

For  I  am  homeward  bound." 

TURNER. 

IF  you  stand  upon  Wild  Cat  Ridge,  as  it  was  then 
called,  and  take  in  the  wonderful  landscape  which 
opens  up  to  your  view,  you  will  hardly  care  to  leave 
it.  You  would  rather  that  its  wild  and  beautiful 
scenery  should  become  so  deeply  impressed  upon 
your  memory  that  its  charming  beauties  would  abide 
with  you  forever.  The  ridge  on  which  you  stand 
and  the  one  seen  sloping  down  towards  you,  from 
the  opposite  direction  and  which  seems  but  a  con 
tinuation  of  this,  are  separated  in  the  hollow  yonder 
by  a  swift-running  stream  of  water.  The  passage 
which  the  action  of  the  water  has  made  through  its 
centre  is  both  deep  and  narrow,  and  is  spanned  by 
a  rudely  constructed  bridge  which  is  known  as  the 
"  Bridge  of  Sighs."  By  this  bridge  you  may  cross 


POOR  MAN'S  CREEK.  221 

the  creek  and  reach  Redwood  Point,  so  called,  one 
of  the  many  "ribs  "  which  belong  to  the  long  range 
of  "  divides  "  between  the  Yuba  and  Feather  rivers. 
Redwood  Point,  viewed  from  where  you  stand,  re 
sembles  in  its  outlines  a  mammoth  boar's  head,  the 
tip  of  whose  nose  has  forced  the  water  to  make  a 
long,  sharp  bend  around  it,  and  its  permanent  bed 
to  hug  the  base  of  the  precipitous  hills.  This  stream 
of  water,  the  gift  of  the  various  hills  which  form 
the  deep  and  narrow  valley,  bears  the  name  of  Poor 
Man's  Creek.  It  comes  skipping  along  through 
miles  of  varied  scenery,  defying  every  obstacle  in 
its  course,  and  plunging  through  the  culvert  of  the 
"  Bridge  of  Sighs  "  loses  itself  in  the  Yuba. 

You  observe  a  dilapidated  log  cabin  upon  the 
Point  yonder,  and  certain  evidences  of  its  having 
been  occupied  for  a  number  of  years.  The  grounds 
about  the  cabin  and  far  up  the  hill  are  badly  dis 
turbed.  Large  rocks  and  bowlders  are  unearthed  ; 
trees,  uprooted,  are  lying  dead  and  broken  ;  the  flume 
frames  spanning  the  creek  are  bent  or  broken ;  the 
water  ditch  refilled  and  destroyed,  and  havoc  and 
desolation  rules  supreme. 

These  diggings  are  "  worked  out,"  the  Point  for 
mally  abandoned,  and  the  late  proprietors  on  their 
way  to  San  Francisco  en  route  to  their  Eastern 
homes.  Both  the  creek  and  the  bridge  were  named 
by  the  late  owners,  who  it  is  said  abandoned  the 


222  A    WINTER  EVENING'S   TALE. 

Point  some  time  before  as  being  worthless,  but  re 
turned  in  after  years  poor  in  purse  but  rich  in  expe 
rience.  The  maxim  of  a  rolling  stone  gathering  no 
moss  proved  in  their  case  a  literal  fact,  for  after  an 
absence  of  two  years  they  returned  to  their  old 
quarters  so  poor  and  discouraged  that  the  names 
most  expressive  of  their  condition  and  sentiments 
were  given  to  them.  It  is  said  the  company  found 
upon  their  return  the  original  bed  of  the  creek  some 
two  hundred  feet  above  its  present  channel.  This 
was  considered  at  the  time  so  inconsistent  with  long 
established  theories,  that  the  facts  were  only  con 
firmed  by  unmistakable  evidences  of  their  success. 
Their  efforts,  after  years  of  trials  and  disappoint 
ments,  it  would  seem,  had  been  finally  crowned  with 
success,  and  now  they  had  gone  to  their  quiet  New 
England  homes  to  enjoy  their  moderate  fortunes. 

Frank  Graham  is  a  member  of  this  company,  and 
like  them  is  on  his  way  home.  He  had  pecuniarily 
exceeded  the  limits  which  enjoined  him  to  continue 
longer  in  this  land  of  chance  and  delusion,  and  now 
he  was  ready  to  go  home.  Five  years  of  toil  and 
suffering  had  paralyzed  his  ambitious  yearnings, 
and  prepared  his  mind  to  accept  lesser  results. 
Facts  as  palpable  as  the  light  of  day  had  long  since 
bridled  his  hopes  and  banished  dreams  as  illusory 
as  they  were  enchanting.  Dame  Fortune  had  indeed 
been  exceptionally  partial,  if  not  cruelly  unjust. 


POOR  MAN'S  CREEK.  22$ 

She  had  in  many  cases  without  stint  poured  her 
treasures  into  the  hands  of  wicked  and  undeserving 
men,  while  the  claims  of  the  industrious  and  pure 
in  heart  had  been  hopelessly  ignored.  He  had  toiled 
hard  to  merit  her  esteem,  he  had  been  persistent 
and  courageous  in  his  efforts  to  please,  but  she  had 
deceived  on  the  one  hand  and  chastised  on  the 
other.  From  air  castles  conceived  from  the  buoy 
ancy  of  his  nature  and  built  upon  hopes  as  durable 
as  ropes  of  sand,  he  had  returned  to  earth  emanci 
pated  and  at  rest.  Yes,  he  was  going  home,  to 
leave  this  beautiful  land  forever.  He  must  conse 
crate  his  father's  dust  and  a  portion  of  his  own 
body  to  its  future  greatness,  and  as  calmly  as  was 
possible  resign  these  sacred  forfeitures  to  a  morbid 
love  of  gain. 

Yes,  he  is  going  home,  and  perhaps,  dear  reader, 
it  is  your  wish  to  return  and  follow  him  to  his  little 
home  nestling  so  peacefully  on  the  banks  of  the 
Mohawk.  Let  us  go,  therefore,  back  to  the  disas 
trous  fire  and  the  scene  upon  the  levee,  and  after 
connecting  the  intervening  events,  overtake  him  be 
fore  he  sails  from  San  Francisco. 

After  the  city  of  Sacramento  had  been  rebuilt, 
Graham  resumed  his  business  at  his  old  stand  No. 
3  K  Street.  With  enlarged  quarters  and  ampler 
experience  he  branched  out  with  every  encourage 
ment  of  success,  but  the  same  fatal  blight  which 


224  ^    WINTER  EVENING'S   TALE. 

had  stricken  his  previous  efforts,  and  from  which  it 
seemed  he  could  scarcely  ever  rally,  came  again,  — 
this  time  in  the  form  of  a  protracted  flood,  which 
completely  inundated  the  city  during  the  spring 
months  of  1853.  Every  building  was  under  water, 
business  was  suspended,  and  grave  doubts  as  to  the 
future  of  the  city  began  to  be  seriously  entertained. 
The  whole  volume  of  the  American  River  ran 
through  the  principal  streets,  and  the  city  was  cov 
ered  with  rubbish,  mud,  and  sluggish  water.  Noth 
ing  could  be  done,  because  there  was  nothing  to  do 
but  patiently  await  the  subsidence  of  the  winter 
rains  and  the  reconstruction  of  the  city  upon  higher 
and  safer  foundation.  Thousands  abandoned  it  or 
sought  refuge  for  the  time  being  upon  higher  ground, 
miles  back  from  the  river. 

For  Graham  there  was  but  one  course,  and  that 
was  to  accept  the  generous  invitation  to  return  to 
Poor  Man's  Creek  and  join  a  party  of  old  friends 
located  there,  and  take  his  chances  once  more  as 
a  rough-and-tumble  miner.  His  last  visit  to  the 
Arbor  was  made  in  a  dory,  the  water  then  being 
two  feet  above  the  floor  of  his  saloon.  Such  arti 
cles  as  were  worth  securing  under  difficulties  so 
aggravating  were  fished  out  and  the  rest  abandoned. 
The  saloon  was  locked,  the  lease,  together  with  the 
key,  was  nailed  upon  the  outside  door.  A  notice 
to  the  landlord  that  the  occupant  had  chartered  an 


POOR  MAN'S  CREEK.  22$ 

ark  and  gone  in  search  of  Mount  Ararat,  and  should 
not  again  return,  was  also  posted  conspicuously  un 
derneath.  Then  Graham  withdrew  from  the  afflicted 
city,  and  with  a  heavy  heart  returned  to  Poor  Man's 
Creek.  There  he  purchased  an  interest  in  the  min 
ing  operations  of  his  friends  and  became  a  formal 
partner  in  the  company. 

In  July,  1854,  Graham  left  Poor  Man's  Creek  for 
San  Francisco,  and  as  the  stage  dashed  along  over 
hills  and  through  the  valleys,  he  found  himself  occa 
sionally  lost  in  painful  reveries.  The  Yuba  and  its 
receding  scenery  recalled  again  to  his  mind  the 
memorable  incidents  of  by-gone  days,  and  the  con 
trast  between  the  former  and  his  present  departure 
was  both  striking  and  suggestive.  Five  years  had 
now  elapsed  since  his  arrival  in  the  new  Eldorado, 
and  the  reminiscences  of  those  eventful  years  were 
reviewed  with  feelings  of  touching  tenderness.  Of 
the  seven  associates  who  had  struck  out  for  the 
mines  in  the  hopeful  days  of  '49,  he,  it  would  seem, 
was  the  only  survivor.  Poor  Littlefield,  after  a  lin 
gering  illness,  died  at  the  Sandwich  Islands.  Doctor 
Burns  perished  upon  his  ranch  on  Feather  River 
in  the  disastrous  flood  of  '53.  Wallace  disappeared 
about  the  same  time,  and  his  fate  has  never  been 
fully  known.  Graham's  experience  in  the  five  pre 
ceding  years  had  been  a  succession  of  failures, 
which,  coupled  with  the  loss  of  his  arm,  were  indeed 
15 


226  A    WINTER  EVENING'S   TALE. 

discouraging.  But  his  return  to  Poor  Man's  Creek 
seems  to  have  been  a  change  for  the  better,  and  he 
began  to  cast  his  eyes  wishfully  towards  the  Mo 
hawk  Valley.  He  had  become  weary  of  waiting  for 
some  reliable  news  from  home.  His  fears  had  be 
come  excited  over  their  unaccountable  silence,  while 
his  heart  assured  him  that  all  was  not  well  in  the 
valley  of  the  Mohawk. 

It  is  true  the  unsettled  condition  of  the  country 
and  the  imperfect  arrangements  of  the  Post  Office 
Department  were  much  to  blame  for  the  embarrass 
ments  caused  to  friends  at  either  end  of  the  route. 
And  then,  again,  the  wandering  habits  of  the  early 
pioneers  had  undoubtedly  destroyed  many  precon 
ceived  lines  of  communication  from  which  many 
sufferings  sprang  and  jealousies  were  fostered  which 
were  never  assuaged  nor  ever  after  explained. 

Singular  as  it  may  seem,  he  had  never  met  with 
any  one  directly  from  his  own  village  who  had  left  it 
subsequently  to  Philip  Rugby,  who  could  give  him 
the  slightest  intelligence  of  the  people  he  was  inter 
ested  in.  His  letters  had  unquestionably  been  an 
swered,  but  had  reached  their  destination  too  late 
for  his  reception,  and,  like  thousands  of  others,  had 
either  perished  at  the  sub-agencies  at  the  mines  or 
found  an  everlasting  tomb  at  the  Dead  Letter  Office. 
He  had  realized  within  the  past  year  a  sufficient 
sum  to  lilt  the  mortgage  from  his  mother's  home 


POOR  MAWS  CREEK.  22? 

and  make  her  declining  years  the  most  enjoyable  of 
her  life.  He  was  glad  he  could  return  to  his  home 
without  embarrassment  to  himself  or  his  friends. 
He  was  pleased,  aye,  more  than  pleased,  he  was 
happy  and  proud  to  feel  that  never  for  one  moment 
had  he  lost  his  own  self-respect  or  fell  a  victim  to 
the  alluring  temptations  which  had  ruined  so  many. 
Although  far  from  being  successful  pecuniarily,  yet 
in  a  measure  he  was  fully  compensated  by  a  clearer 
knowledge  of  the  world,  and  the  importance  of  self- 
reliance,  which  had  been  drilled  into  his  memory  by 
the  force  of  circumstances.  Then,  again,  the  vicissi 
tudes  and  the  painful  scenes  in  which  he  had  been 
largely  a  sharer  had  taught  him  of  "  man's  inhu 
manity  to  man,"  and  the  need  of  fortitude  and 
strength  of  character  to  meet  the  great  adversities  of 
life.  But,  far  above  these  essential  elements  which 
go  so  far  towards  sustaining  a  man  during  the  deep 
est  afflictions  which  follow  him,  he  had  discovered 
God's  holy  influence  and  felt  his  consoling  love 
during  the  darkest  hours  of  his  misfortunes.  He 
felt  that  God  had  watched  over  him  in  the  gloom 
and  suffering  of  a  hospital  ward,  and  that  by  his 
recovery  and  permission  to  return  again  to  his  home 
and  kindred,  He  had  shown  unto  him  his  tenderest 
mercy  and  love. 

Vast  and  important  changes  had  occurred  during 
his  residence  in  the  new  Eldorado.    From  a  wild,  un- 


228  A    WINTER  EVENING'S   TALE. 

cultivated  Territory,  it  had  become  a  rich  and  pros 
perous  State.  Villages  had  sprung  up  where  the 
log-cabin  had,  in  its  extreme  loneliness,  been  forgot 
ten  and  unknown.  Townships  had  been  platted  and 
roads  surveyed,  and  from  her  once  silent  hollows 
came  up  the  sound  of  the  school-house  bell  and  the 
children's  merry  laugh,  and  above  the  forest  trees 
the  church  spire  with  long  tapering  finger  pointed 
far  up  into  the  deep  blue  sky.  Cities  had  grown  in 
wealth  and  significance,  civil  law  had  superseded 
"Judge  Lynch,"  and  social  order  the  "vigilance  com 
mittee."  Reckless  depravity  had  taken  refuge  in 
the  slums,  and  the  bowie-knife  had  to  face  the  po 
liceman's  billy.  Human  life  had  become  measurably 
safe,  and  personal  property  held  with  great  security. 
The  barbarous  custom  of  hanging  criminals  from 
the  limbs  of  trees  had  been  modified  by  the  interpos 
ition  of  the  stately  official,  and  the  outlawed  thief 
found  comfortable  quarters  in  the  local  prisons.  The 
stage  dashed  along  over  the  roads  which  were  as 
familiar  to  his  eyes  as  those  which  led  from  Utica  up 
the  Mohawk  River  to  Rome.  Major  Winchester  and 
family  continued  to  reside  at  the  Corner,  which  had 
grown  to  quite  a  village.  The  cabin  prison  was  gone, 
but  the  "judge's  stand,"  as  it  was  afterwards  called, 
was  plainly  seen  ;  even  the  tree  with  its  long,  pro 
jecting  arm,  with  bits  of  the  rope  still  dangling  in 
the  air,  was  standing  upon  the  Flats.  The  Downie 


POOR  MAN'S  CREEK.  2  29 

House  sign  still  swung  over  the  hotel  door  and 
creaked  as  hoarsely  as  ever  as  it  swayed  to  and  fro 
in  the  shifting  breeze.  The  Ripple  Spring  House 
had  deteriorated,  but  the  same  singular  beauties  re 
mained.  The  pure,  sparkling  waters  still  continued 
to  murmur  and  sing  as  they  rippled  down  over  their 
pebbly  beds.  Sutter's  Fort  had  long  been  de 
serted  ;  its  prestige  and  usefulness  were  gone,  while 
its  fame  and  power,  like  its  genial  host  and  his  hos 
pitality,  were  fast  being  forgotten.  The  rolling 
prairie,  with  its  green  sward,  shaded  here  and  there 
by  massive  oaks,  was  just  as  fresh  and  'unchanged 
as  ever ;  but  there  was  neither  stake  nor  head 
board  standing  which  marked  the  grave  of  the  early 
dead. 

Sacramento  City  had  risen  from  her  bath  cleansed 
and  purified,  and  thrift  and  prospective  greatness 
multiplied  with  each  succeeding  year.  The  Arbor 
was  no  more.  It  had  yielded  to  the  advancing  wave 
of  prosperity ;  its  light  had  been  forever  extin 
guished,  and  its  efforts,  however  heroic  and  deserv 
ing,  perished  with  fire  and  flood. 

San  Francisco  had  indeed  changed  since  the  early 
days  of  '49.  No  man  dared  prophesy  for  her  then 
what  she  really  is  to-day.  The  wildest  of  the  Ara 
bian  Nights'  stories  scarcely  presents  anything  more 
wonderful  than  the  story  of  her  rise  to  her  present 
grandeur  and  magnificence ;  and  she  has  earned,  as 


230  A    WINTER  EVENING'S   TALE. 

she  is  also  entitled  to,  the  proud  position  she  occu 
pies  to-day,  —  the  great  metropolis  of  the  State  and 
the  Queen  City  of  the  Pacific  slope. 

On  a  clear  morning  in  September,  1854,  the  steam 
ship  Pacific,  with  three  hundred  passengers  home 
ward  bound  to  mingle  again  in  the  dreamy  joys  of 
by-gone  days,  took  her  departure  from  Long  Wharf, 
San  Francisco,  for  San  Juan,  Nicaragua.  It  will  be 
impossible  to  give  a  perfect  description  of  such  a 
joyous  and  impressive  scene,  especially  in  a  land 
fraught  with  so  many  endearing  ties  and  lasting 
recollection's  as  the  one  they  were  about  to  leave. 
No  one  could  faithfully  picture  the  internal  emo 
tions  of  that  vast  crowd,  gathered  as  they  were 
amid  the  wildest  excitement,  bidding  adieu  to  those 
who  were,  in  a  short  time,  to  tread  their  native  hills 
again,  and  bear  glad  tidings  to  anxious  and  aching 
hearts  at  home.  Try  to  imagine  yourselves  on 
board  that  proud  and  beautiful  ship,  and  if  possible 
united  in  sympathy  with  that  merry  throng  who  were 
now  separating  and  exchanging  the  last  good-byes 
and  farewells. 

The  grand  old  ship,  covered  with  her  human 
freight,  rises  and  falls  in  the  swelling  tide,  and 
seems  impatient  to  be  released  from  her  moorings 
and  bid  defiance  to  the  mighty  deep.  The  pilot 
takes  his  position  at  the  wheel,  and  the  master  of 
the  ship  mounts  the  paddle-box.  The  cheers  be- 


POOR  MAN'S  CREEK.  2$  I 

comes  more  deafening,  and  the  lingering  moments 
more  earnest,  as  the  steamer  chafes  and  her  hawsers 
crack  in  her  efforts  to  break  away.  At  length  the 
master  shouts,  "All  aboard!"  and  instantly  the 
order  to  "  cast  off  the  bow-line,"  then  the  pilot's  sig 
nal  to  "  start  her,"  is  heard.  Now  she  swings  away 
from  the  pier,  and  her  powerful  wheels  churn  the 
waters  into  a  seething  whirlpool.  The  stern-line  is 
"  cast  away,"  and  like  a  thing  of  life  she  moves  from 
her  berth  gracefully  out  into  the  bay. 

On  goes  that  stanch  good  ship  before  a  spank 
ing  breeze,  leaping  and  plunging  with  sportive  bra 
vado,  her  decks  and  spars  completely  drenched  with 
spray.  She  playfully  kisses  the  tempestuous  sea, 
and  smiles  through  her  tears  as  the  gale  increases. 
Tossing  her  head  with  wanton  coquetry  she  laughs 
to  scorn  the  wild  and  infuriated  storm.  Again  she 
skims  the  subdued  sea  with  "gentle  winds  and  calm 
blue  sky.  The  moonbeams  play  upon  the  tranquil 
deep,  while  weary  messmates  soundly  sleep. 

We  leave  thee,  land  of  wealth  and  beauty,  and  to 
day  bid  thee  a  long  farewell.  When  we,  the  pion 
eers  of  thy  early  glory,  shall  have  passed  away,  and 
the  memories  of  thy  primitive  magnificence  forgot 
ten,  who  shall  repeat  thy  marvelous  riches,  who  shall 
tell  the  pilgrim's  story.  We  found  thee  a  wild,  un 
broken  solitude,  a  land  of  sunshine  and  flowers,  the 
slumbering  germ  of  a  western  empire.  We  leave 


232  A    WINTER  EVENING'S   TALE. 

thee  full  of  buried  treasures,  covered  with  myriads 
of  wealth,  and  conscious  of  superior  greatness,  with 
out  a  rival  in  the  history  of  the  world. 

But  let  us  return  to  Graham,  who  is  pacing  the 
deck  with  a  measured  tread.  His  thoughts  are  wan 
dering  back  upon  the  banks  of  the  Mohawk  River. 
He  fancies  he  is  seated  at  his  cottage  door  beneath 
a  cloudless  moon  ;  that  the  autumn  winds  are  sigh 
ing  through  the  tinted  foliage  ;  that  his  mother  in 
her  accustomed  mood  sits  amid  the  group  rehearsing 
anew  some  old  legend ;  thinks  that  he  hears  the  bub 
bling  brook,  and  his  sister's  merry  laugh ;  then  the 
tolling  of  the  old  church-bell  the  hour  of  prayer  ; 
the  evening  song,  the  bugle's  serenade,  Major's  bark, 
the  Mohawk's  murmur,  are  all  present  to  his  mind. 
Again  he  follows  the  bridle  path  through  fern  and 
thicket,  and  leaps  the  brook  into  the  old  county  road 
as  he  had  done  many  times  before.  Again  he  stands 
on  the  portico  of  the  Rugby  mansion  as  the  moon 
goes  down  behind  the  "  big  bend  "  in  the  Mohawk 
River.  And  Jane  stands  with  him.  Aye,  his  blessed 
Jane  !  Ah,  it  was  so  far  in  years  since  last  they 
met,  and  yet  so  near  to  memory  dear,  that  the  space 
doth  seem  but  the  flittering  mist  of  some  evening 
dream.  Yes,  there  she  stands,  so  confidingly,  and 
nestles  so  fondly  beneath  his  winter's  cloak,  her 
hand  clasped  in  his,  her  sweet,  pretty  face  against 
his  own  ;  and  he  knows  that  she  but  expressed  the 


POOR  MAN'S  CREEK.  233 

holiest  purposes  of  her  heart,  when  she  uttered  these 
well  remembered  words,  "  Your  visits  will  be  ever 
welcome  to  Rugby  Farm." 

What  would  be  his  reception  now,  disabled  for 
life,  his  profession  gone,  his  future  usefulness  still 
to  be  acquired  ?  Could  he  stand  before  Squire 
.Rugby's  frowning  face  ?  Would  Jane  plead  for  him 
now  as  she  had  done  in  the  warmth  of  her  early 
love  ?  Oh,  no  ;  it  could  not  be  expected.  They 
were  both  young  then,  and  overwhelmed  with  pas 
sionate  attachment  for  each  other.  They  were  too 
young  to  have  formed  a  contract  so  hazardous  and 
compulsory.  Things  had  changed.  They  were 
both  older,  and  perhaps  wiser.  It  would  be  only 
just  and  manly  to  annul  the  old  and  then  sue  for  a 
new  engagement.  Thus,  alone,  beneath  the  waning 
moon  he  paced  the  deck,  and  while  the  "  stars  pro 
claimed  night's  cheerless  noon,"  he  held  sweet  com 
munion  with  his  own  conflicting  thoughts.  But 
beneath  the  gathering  fears  which  ever  and  anon 
arose  in  his  mind  like  a  grim  spectre  in  the  gloom  of 
night,  there  still  remained  that  strong  and  over 
whelming  faith  in  Jane  Rugby's  constancy  and  love. 
How  sweet  were  her  parting  words,  how  well  remem 
bered,  how  oft  repeated  —  and  as  the  moon  went 
down  beneath  the  troubled  sea,  and  the  vessel  rocked 
with  wind  and  wave,  he  saw  in  his  imagination  the 
following  bow  of  promise  seemingly  blazoned  upon 


234  A    WINTER  EVENING'S    TALE. 

the  silvered  sky :  "  Frank,  darling,  I  have  suffered 
for  you  so  much,  I  must  continue  to  surfer  for  your 
sake.  This  suffering  is  the  price  I  pay  for  my  un 
dying  love  for  you.  Promise  me,  darling,  before  God, 
in  whose  presence  we  stand  to-night,  you  will  be 
faithful  and  come  back  again  to  me." 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

HOME   AGAIN. 

DREAM  on,  thou  troubled  heart,  dream  on! 

Indulge  in  the  joys  which  are  thine ! 

The  bitterest  potion  which  fills  up  the  cup 

Are  found  in  the  dregs  of  the  wine. 

To-morrow  thy  dreams  are  to  end, 

Thy  fondest  hopes  shall  decay, 

Then  sip  from  the  cup  the  joys  that  are  thine, 

And  dream  on,  dream  on  while  you  may. 

THE  AUTHOR. 

ON  the  arrival  of  the  morning  train  at  Fernwood 
Station  a  gentlemanly-looking  man  stepped  lightly 
out  upon  the  platform,  and,  taking  a  long  sweep 
ing  glance  at  the  surroundings,  walked  rapidly  to 
wards  the  Mohawk  River.  He  was  a  young  man  some 
twenty-six  years  of  age,  of  dark  complexion  and 
wearing  a  full,  heavy  beard.  A  warm  traveling 
shawl  fastened  about  the  neck  partially  concealed 
an  empty  sleeve  looped  up  from  the  elbow  and  tied 
to  a  button  upon  his  breast  with  a  piece  of  black 
ribbon.  It  was  two  miles  from  the  station  to  the 
village  centre,  and  the  stage  with  the  mail  and  pas 
sengers  whirled  past  him  as  he  left  the  road  and 
struck  off  through  familiar  paths  known  to  him  long 
years  ago.  It  was  the  desire  to  follow  these  well 


236  A    WINTER  EVENING'S   TALE. 

remembered  walks  and  pass  unobserved  to  his  moth 
er's  home,  that  induced  Frank  Graham  to  reject  the 
privilege  and  allow  the  stage  to  depart  without  him. 
As  he  hastened  along  under  the  leafless  trees,  a 
cold,  frosty  wind  blew  the  crispy  leaves  far  in  ad 
vance  of  his  feet,  and  seemed  to  admonish  him  that 
an  approaching  storm  was  near.  He  walked  briskly 
down  the  sloping  hills  and  followed  the  old  "  Pond 
Lily  "  road  to  the  left  of  the  cemetery  which  led  to 
the  bridge  that  spanned  the  Mohawk  River.  His 
heart,  hitherto  agitated,  became  filled  with  strange 
emotions  as  he  neared  his  cottage  home.  The  re 
membrances  of  by-gone  days  gathered  thick  and 
fast  as  his  eyes  rested  upon  the  scenes  of  earlier 
days.  He  felt  a  peculiar  faintness  settling  down 
upon  his  heart  as  he  witnessed  the  varied  changes 
on  every  side,  and  a  shadow  of  some  painful  calam 
ity  weighed  heavily  upon  him.  Several  villagers 
passed  him  on  the  way  whose  countenances  seemed 
familiar,  but  they  knew  him  not.  He  reached  the 
curve  in  the  road  where  he  saw  for  the  last  time  his 
mother's  face  as  she  stood  at  the  garden  gate  ex 
posed  to  the  piercing  wind  on  a  cold  December 
morn.  He  cast  a  quick  but  anxious  look  around 
the  hill,  his  eyes  following  the  drowsy  Mohawk  and 
resting  upon  the  church  and  its  long,  tapering  spire. 
He  saw  the  cliff,  with  its  wrinkled  face,  the  woods, 
the  water-course,  its  noisy  stream  still  splashing 


HOME  AGAIN.  237 

down  its  side  — but  his  cottage  home  was  gone.  A 
cry  of  anguish  came  up  out  of  the  depths  of  his 
soul ;  his'  tortured  heart  seemed  to  sink  within  him. 
He  stood  as  one  riveted  to  the  spot  and  gazed  in 
painful  astonishment  at  the  complete  annihilation  of 
his  once  happy  home.  That  pebbled  brook  which 
sang  so  sweetly  and  filled  his  boyhood  dreams  with 
strange  delight  had  ceased  forever.  A  grist-mill 
stood  upon  that  sacred  spot,  whose  thirsty  wheel 
gulped  down  that  never-ceasing  stream.  The  picket 
fence,  the  graveled  walks,  the  jessamine  bowers,  and 
deeply-ivied  walls  were  all  gone.  Not  a  relic  left 
to  mark  the  spot  where  it  had  once  stood.  He  ap 
proached  the  miller,  who  had  watched  him  from  the 
door  of  the  mill  with  seeming  curiosity,  and  asked 
with  fear  and  trembling  to  be  directed  to  the  resi 
dence  of  Mrs.  James  Graham. 

"  Oh,  sir  ;  she  be  dead.  Been  dead,  sir,  these 
three  years,  and  you  '11  find  her  residence  in  the 
churchyard  on  yonder  hill." 

"The  children  ?  Well  they  be  gone  away.  They 
left  one  after  the  other  soon  after  their  mother  died, 
and  so  far  as  I  know  they  have  not  been  heard  of 
since.  Frank,  the  oldest  boy,  is  dead.  He  was 
killed  some  years  ago  out  in  the  gold  mines  in  Cali 
fornia.  I  never  knew  just  what  happened  to  him  ; 
but  you  can  find  out,  if  you  wish  the  particulars,  at 
the  post-office  up  in  the  square." 


238  A    WINTER  EVENING'S   TALE. 

Frank  Graham  stood  immovable  as  a  pillar  of 
stone,  and  gazed  into  the  face  of  the  miller  in  breath 
less  silence.  Shocked  at  this  painful  intelligence, 
and  stupefied  from  the  suddenness  of  the  blow,  he 
sat  down  upon  the  steps  of  the  mill  overwhelmed 
with  grief  'and  astonishment.  The  wind  had  in 
creased  in  violence,  the  lowering  clouds  grew  darker 
and  darker,  and  the  air,  hitherto  chilly  and  raw,  was 
now  filled  with  sleet  and  rain,  -^  but  still  he  moved 
not.  Buried  in  the  bitterness  of  his  own  thoughts, 
with  the  folds  of  his  shawl  wound  tightly  about  him, 
he  seemed  completely  overpowered  with  the  magni 
tude  of  his  loss  and  the  destruction  of  his  home. 
Should  he  continue  his  investigations  farther  ? 
Would  he  dare  ask  this  honest  yeoman  of  the  Rug- 
bys  of  Rugby  Farm  ?  Would  he  confirm  his  suspi 
cions  or  dispel  these  dreadful  fears  ?  could  he  dare 
to  hope,  amid  the  desolation  which  had  covered  his 
father's  house  like  a  pall  of  death,  to  find  one  faith 
ful  heart  that  would  weep  "  tear  for  tear  and  give 
back  sigh  for  sigh  ?  "  Was  it  joy  or  sorrow  that 
must  follow  these  most  anxious  inquiries  ?  could  he 
trust  his  poor  heart  to  yet  greater  strain,  and  harass 
a  mind  already  bewildered  and  in  peril  ?  Yet  it 
were  better  he  should  know  —  far  better,  if  the  cup 
was  his,  to  drink  it  at  a  single  draught  than  sip  its 
poison  drop  by  drop.  If  he  had  returned  to  a  home 
utterly  destroyed,  and  its  memories  hopelessly  for- 


HOME  AGAIN.  239 

saken,  without  a  kindred  spirit  either  to  assuage  his 
grief  or  shed  a  tear  amid  its  ruins,  it  were  best  he 
should  know,  and  know  it  quickly. 

"  Oh,  yes,"  replied  the  miller  ;  "  there  has  been 
great  changes,  and  vast  improvements  made  in  this 
portion  of  the  Mohawk  valley." 

Yes,  many  of  their  prominent  citizens  had  gone 
home  to  their  fathers  with  ripened  years  and  calen 
dars  filled  with  good  deeds.  He  knew  the  Rugbys 
well.  The  good  old  squire  was  dead.  His  son 
Philip  had  fallen  into  bad  company.  He  had  em 
bezzled  funds  belonging  to  the  bank  —  had  forged 
his  father's  name,  and  had  become  a  wanderer  and 
an  outlaw.  The  old  lady  still  lived  upon  the  farm, 
which  had  been  impoverished  through  the  conduct 
of  her  son.  Her  daughter  Jane  had  married,  and 
gone  with  her  husband  to  Calcutta. 

This  announcement,  added  to  that  of  his  mother's 
death,  so  unexpected,  and  yet  so  pathetically  told, 
were  the  drops  which  filled  his  cup  of  misery  to  the 
brim ;  and  thanking  the  miller  for  his  courtesy  he 
withdrew  to  conceal  his  feelings  and  hide  his  scald 
ing  tears. 

The  death  of  Mr.  Graham,  and  the  subsequent 
report  that  his  son  had  gone  to  a  premature  grave, 
had  crushed  the  last  hope  of  that  wife  and  mother. 
Her  resources  were  suddenly  cut  off,  and  the  grim- 
fisted  Shylock  had  rapped  upon  that  cottage  door. 


240  A    WINTER  EVENING'S    7 ALE. 

The  mandates  of  the  law  had  driven  her  with  her 
little  ones  from  that  home.  The  auctioneer's  ham 
mer  had  fed  the  cravings  of  that  miser's  heart.  She 
died  full  of  hope  and  love,  to  sleep  in  the  arms  of 
Him  who  doeth  all  things  well. 

He  wandered  over  the  hills  and  through  the  vales 
and  viewed  the  scenes  of  earlier  days.  The  faithful 
dog  which  had  shared  his  joys  and  sorrows  stood 
guardian  of  the  village  store,  and  knew  him  not. 
The  old  spotted  cow,  which  he  and  Major  had  so 
often  chased  through  the  "  deep  tangled  wildwood," 
stood  lowing  at  the  stranger's  gate.  His  father's 
library,  his  paintings,  his  collections  of  birds  and 
curiosities,  graced  the  walls  of  those  who  knew  not 
their  value.  The  old  oaken  clock  which  had  marked 
the  hours  of  fourscore  years,  and  the  arm-chair  in 
which  his  mother  sang  her  evening  lullabies,  had 
passed  to  others'  keeping.  His  sister's  playthings, 
and  his  own  little  ship,  with  snow-white  sails  and 
tiny  masts,  were  the  sport  and  amusement  of  a  new 
generation.  Go  where  he  would,  some  memento  of 
departed  days  appeared  to  awaken  afresh  his  grief 
and  prolong  his  tears. 

Many  of  his  dear  old  friends  who  had  prophesied 
for  him  such  a  brilliant  future  had  passed  away, 
never  to  return.  Most  of  his  schoolmates  had  mar 
ried,  and  many  had  sought  new  homes,  and  he  stood 
in  the  midst  of  the  holiest  of  his  recollections,  seem- 


HOME  AGAIN,  24! 

ingly  forgotten  and  unknown.  He  had  purposely 
concealed  his  identity  from  every  one  but  Aunt  Ber 
tha,  his  mother's  faithful  friend  and  nurse,  who  be 
held  him  with  startled  wonder  and  surprise.  She 
welcomed  him  tenderly  to  her  humble  home,  and 
explained  to  him  the  cause  of  his  mother's  illness 
and  her  subsequent  death.  She  corroborated  the 
miller's  statement  with  reference  to  the  Rugbys  at 
Rugby  Farm.  She  had  heard  of  Miss  Rugby's  mar 
riage  ;  that  was  all.  She  had  no  reasons  for  dis 
crediting  the  rumor.  She  warmly  defended  Jane 
Rugby's  devotion  and  innocence,  and  while  he  con 
tinued  her  guest  spared  no  pains  to  sweeten  the  bit 
terest  draught  of  his  life.  Philip  Rugby  had  indeed 
proven  a  prodigal  son,  for  not  only  had  he  betrayed 
his  father's  confidence,  and  dishonored  his  name, 
but  had  absconded,  leaving  a  tottering  home  to  fall 
in  ruins,  and  a  "father's  gray  hairs  to  go  down  in 
sorrow  to  the  grave."  Jane  Rugby  had  married.  She 
had  married  with  the  fullest  assurance  that  Frank 
Graham  was  dead  and  buried,  and  up  to  the  very 
last  moment  solemnly  believed  that  such  was  indeed 
the  fact.  She  had  married  a  sea-captain,  engaged 
in  the  East  India  trade.  He  was  part  owner  in  his 
ship,  and  as  his  wife  preferred  the  sea  to  being 
a-lone,  they  had  sailed  together  upon  their  second 
voyage  but  a  few  months  previous  to  Graham's  re 
turn.  Realizing  that  she  was  forever  lost  to  him,  he 
16 


242  A    WINTER  EVENING'S   TALE. 

abandoned  with  Christian    resignation   all  hope  of 
ever  seeing  her  again. 

He  continued  the  guest  of  Aunt  Bertha  while 
arranging  with  the  sexton  the  future  care  of  his 
mother's  grave.  The  time  had  now  come  when  he 
must  leave  these  sacred  scenes  and  never  again  re 
turn.  He  must  go,  he  cared  not  whither,  make  new 
friends,  and  lay  the  foundation  for  a  new  home.  He 
paid  a  last  visit  to  his  mother's  grave  —  a  neat  little 
stone  had  been  erected  to  mark  that  hallowed  spot ; 
the  flowers  were  still  blooming,  their  perfume  scent 
ing  the  chilly  air.  The  sun  had  settled  behind  the 
forest  trees,  the  crispy  leaves  crumbled  beneath  his 
feet.  The  cold  November  wind  bit  sharp,  and  the 
fading  sunset  warned  him  it  was  time  to  go,  and 
yet,  mute  and  sad,  he  stood,  oblivious  to  the  closing 
day. 

This,  dear  reader,  is  but  one  case  among  the 
thousands  of  a  like  nature  which  are  the  results  of 
a  morbid  love  of  wealth.  Mr.  Graham,  as  you  have 
seen,  was  surrounded  by  many  of  those  blessings 
which  help  to  sweeten  the  cares  of  life,  but  gold, 
that  wily  tempter,  allured  him  to  an  untimely  grave. 
He  left  a  pure  and  doting  widow,  whose  pallid  cheeks 
became  the  channels  for  a  thousand  tears.  They 
left  four  orphan  children  of  tender  years,  bereft  of 
home  and  kindred,  and  whose  guileless  hearts  had 
never  known  a  moment's  sorrow. 


HOME  AGAIN.  243 

Gather  ye  about  your  hearth-stones,  and  bless  the 
sanctity  of  your  humble  homes.  Be  kind  to  your 
little  ones,  and  weave  a  garland  of  roses  about  their 
youthful  brows.  Gather  them  unto  you,  as  the  hen 
gathereth  her  brood,  and  forsake  them  not,  that  they 
may  become  a  staff  to  your  old  age,  and  a  blessing 
to  your  declining  years.  Be  mindful,  that  we  are  all 
traveling  to  a  land  of  sunshine  and  flowers,  whose 
sun  never  sets,  and  -whose  flowers  neither  droop 
nor  die.  Be  ye  watchful  and  wary,  less  the  glitter 
of  wealth  and  the  love  of  display  should  hide  the 
right  path  and  lead  you  astray. 


CHAPTER   XVIII. 

THANKSGIVING   WEEK. 

'  The  various  mercies  from  above, 

Matured  the  swelling  grain  ; 
A  kindly  harvest  crowns  thy  love, 
And  plenty  fills  the  plain." 

ANOTHER  year  had  rolled  around,  and  Thanks 
giving  Day,  the  most  sacred  holiday  in  the  year, 
having  been  publicly  announced  from  the  pulpits 
throughout  the  old  Commonwealth,  was  being  looked 
forward  to  with  grateful  anticipations  by  every  heart 
that  claimed  a  home  within  the  limits  of  New  Eng 
land.  Already  the  venerable  turkey  and  his  prog 
eny  had  succumbed  to  the  annual  sacrifice,  and  in 
every  direction  his  headless  body  could  be  seen  ig- 
nominiously  suspended  to  public  gaze.  Already  his 
friendly  associate,  the  motherly  hen,  and  brood,  had 
passed  under  the  guillotine,  and,  disrobed  even 'of 
her  night-dress,  hung  shamefully  exposed  upon  the 
street  corners.  Already  the  markets  were  groan 
ing  under  the  accumulated  luxuries  of  the  season, 
and  the  thoroughfares  were  filled  with  excited  ven 
ders,  anxious  to  dispose  of  their  stock  in  trade  while 


THANKSGIVING    WEEK.  245 

prices  were  stiff.  Already  the  careful  buyer  watched 
the  wavering  vane  for  a  "  break  in  the  market," 
while  the  country  huckster,  alive  to  the  importance 
of  a  "cold  snap,"  watched  with  equal  zeal  the  rise 
and  fall  in  the  thermometer.  Heavily  laden  trucks 
and  teams  filled  with  merchandise  en  route  to  the 
great  outlets  were  seen  cutting  their  way  through  the 
surging  masses  that  blocked  the  avenues  of  trade. 
The  practical  housewife  and  devoted  mother  were 
busy  as  bees  completing  their  manifold  duties,  which 
demanded  fresh  outlays,  and  articles  too  numerous 
to  mention  must  be  purchased  at  whatever  cost  to 
increase  the  attractions  and  enhance  the  interest 
of  the  occasion.  Rooms  must  be  beautified,  tables 
adorned,  and  the  present  Thanksgiving  dinner  su 
persede  all  other  efforts  of  their  married  lives. 

The  tender  associations  which  cluster  around 
Thanksgiving  Day  will  always  make  it  a  day  of 
great  social  interest,  and  for  generations  to  come  it 
will  continue  the  most  enjoyable  day  of  the  year. 
For  coming  as  it  does,  just  after  the  completion 
of  th.e  harvest,  when  the  golden  grains  have  been 
garnered,  and  the  fruits  of  the  fields  gathered  and 
stored,  it  seems  to  finish  with  singular  fitness  the 
season's  prosperity,  and  crown,  as  it  were,  with  glory 
the  fullness  of  the  departing  year. 

The  Tuesday  previous  to  Thanksgiving  Day  be 
gan  with  a  violent  snow-storm,  which  subsequently 


246  A    WINTER  EVENINGS   TALE. 

turned  into  sleet.  It  was  followed  by  a  strong 
easterly  wind  which  drifted  the  snow  into  vast 
ricks,  and  made  travel  both  difficult  and  dangerous. 
Without  a  moment's  cessation  it  snowed  and  rained 
from  two  o'clock  in  the  morning.  Business  was  in 
terrupted,  and  the  schools  held  no  sessions.  It  was 
the  day  usually  assigned  by  market-men  for  arrang 
ing  and  exposing  their  goods  for  sale,  but  of  course 
such  was  the  severity  of  the  storm  the  custom  had 
to  be  abandoned.  In  Boston  it  was  dismal  enough, 
and  the  surrounding  country  was  but  little  less  than 
a  bed  of  mire  and  slush.  The  fog  hung  low  and 
the  city  was  enshrouded  in  it  all  day.  Darkness  in 
all  places  not  near  the  door  or  window  compelled  a 
general  use  of  gas  in  stores  and  counting-rooms. 
Few  pedestrians  were  in  the  streets,  and  these,  with 
their  heads  bundled  up  as  big  as  bushel  baskets, 
were  seen  reeling  and  staggering  against  the  in 
creasing  fury.  There  was  but  little  shopping  done  ; 
comparatively  few  teams  were  exposed,  and  scarcely 
anything  could  be  seen  excepting  the  shamefully 
over-loaded  omnibus  with  jaded  horses  tugging  and 
smarting  under  the  lashes  of  an  "impious  whip," 
determined  to  "  make  time,"  —  and  Boston  hid  itself 
from  the  constant  downfall  of  snow  and  rain.  All 
who  were  forced  out  into  the  storm  seemed  to  be  put 
on  the  defensive.  Every  umbrella  was  canted  to 
the  northeast.  Everybody  and  everything  dripped. 


THANKSGIVING    WEEK.  247 

Hat-brims  were  water-sheds ;  collars  were  turned 
up ;  pantaloons  were  tucked  into  boots ;  rubber  over 
garments  extending  from  top  to  toe  were  every 
where,  and  it  rained  and  snowed,  fast  and  furious, 
all  the  early  morning,  all  the  afternoon,  and  into  the 
night.  It  was  rain  and  snow  everywhere,  and  gloom 
and  darkness  covered  the  land. 

Faneuil  Hall  and  Quincy  Markets  could  best,  per 
haps,  show  the  effects  of  that  storm,  for  there  were 
centred  the  night  before  the  great  staple  articles  so 
indispensable  for  the  approaching  festivities,  and 
loads  upon  loads  of  poultry  and  country  produce 
were  seen  that  morning  strung  along  through  the 
different  avenues  almost  buried  in  the  snow-drifts, 
deserted  apparently  by  their  owners,  and  their  con 
tents  abandoned  to  the  mercy  of  the  storm.  Im 
provised  stalls,  occupying  "  commanding  corners  " 
for  trade,  and  "  desirable  locations  "  for  jobbing,  had 
long  been  taken  up,  and  the  traveling  vender  with 
his  hand-cart  hugged  the  curbstone  with  his  straight 
Rhode  Island  birds  as  "  pretty  as  pinks."  The 
storm  had  struck  the  "  early  birds  "  that  morning, 
and  the  "  worms "  were  seen  lounging  about  the 
warm,  comfortable  saloons  under  the  shadow  of  the 
Cradle  of  Liberty.  Rain,  snow,  waste,  and  destruc 
tion  went  hand  in  hand.  Teams,  stalls,  hand-carts, 
stood  where  they  had  been  arranged  the  night  be 
fore,  and  many  of  their  owners  stood  guard  in  the 


248  A    WINTER  EVENINGS   TALE. 

chilly  air,  wet  to  the  skin,  bluer  than  whet-stones, 
and  waiting  for  an  opportunity  to  sell  out.  There 
were  turkeys  upon  the  awnings,  turkeys  suspended 
to  hooks  and  frames ;  there  were  turkeys  and  chick 
ens  everywhere,  but  nobody  there  to  buy. 

"  Halloo,  Skowhegan  !  How  's  turkeys  selling  to 
day?"  asked  a  neighboring  huckster,  who  with  a 
sad  grin  of  irony  stood  eyeing  his  competitor  from 
a  doorway  through  the  drifting  snow  and  rain. 

"  Sell  ?  neighbor  !  "  said  the  Maine  man,  his  face 
resembling  a  piece  of  honey-combed  tripe  and  his 
beard  covered  with  icicles,  —  "  Sell  ?  "  he  again  ex 
claimed,  with  a  whole  volume  of  invectives  boiled 
down  into  one  of  immeasurable  hate,  and  dropping 
a  quid  of  tobacco  into  the  palm  of  his  hand  he  threw 
it  savagely  at  a  cock  turkey  fastened  to  a  pole 
which  resembled  a  defeated  candidate  after  an  elec 
tion. 

"  Say,  Newmarket !  Is  there  any  place  here 
abouts,  as  you  knows  on,  as  would  take  a  turkey  for 
a  good  square  drink  ? " 

"  Well,  I  dun  know,  Skow.  I  knows  where  we 
can  get  a  drink  for  a  quarter  —  but  turkeys,  you 
see,  are  dreadful  poor  property  hereabouts."  And 
a  moment  later  the  twin  venders,  with  a  sickly  look 
ing  turkey  slung  over  their  shoulders,  were  seen 
to  enter  the  "  Bite "  tavern  in  the  Square  and 
"  smile  "  over  the  mutual  losses  of  the  hour. 


7'HANKSGIVING    WEEK.  249 

"Halloo,  Chelsea!  What,  are  ye  dead?"  ex 
claimed  a  tall,  raw-boned  woman  from  Salem  Street, 
wearing  a  pair  of  No.  10  rubbers  and  a  green  plaid 
shawl  over  her  head,  her  skirts  wet  and  dragging  in 
the  slush. 

"  Dead  !  No  !  "  replied  the  little  man,  with  eye 
glasses  resting  upon  the  tip  of  his  nose,  and  squat 
ting  upon  a  box  of  poultry  with  a  mammoth  um 
brella  over  his  head. 

"  Not  dead,  madam,  but  sleeping  —  taking  a  nap 
—  that 's  all.  What  do  ye  want  ?  " 

"  What  do  I  want  ?  Why  I  want  to  buy  a  tur 
key,"  said  the  dame,  with  a  monster  cabbage  under 
her  arm  and  clinging  with  a  death-like  grip  to  a 
pair  of  drowned  "  spring  chickens."  "  Come,  wake 
up  !  "  and  Chelsea  handed  out  some  half  dozen  fine- 
looking  birds. 

"  Well,  old  man  ;  them  kind  of  goods  are  cheap 
to-day.  What 's  yer  price  ?  " 

"Yes,  madam.  We're  giving  them  away  —  just 
giving  them  away  —  only  eighteen  cents." 

"  Eighteen  cents  !  What  ails  you  ?  Been  offered 
a  fine  one  for  ten  !  " 

"  A  crow,  madam  ;  must  have  been  a  crow,  not  a 
turkey." 

"  Devil  a  crow,  old  man,  and  don't  you  forget  it. 
Come,  now,  I  '11  give  ye  twelve."     And  she  grabbed  . 
a  twelve-pound  turkey  by  the  legs  and  ran  her  long, 


250  A    WINTER  EVENING'S   TALE. 

thin  nose  up  into  its  stomach,  and  then  added,  with 
a  contemptuous  smile,  "that  rooster  is  sick  —  he's 
had  the  jaundice  —  and  he  's  musty,  old  man  !  " 

"  It 's  you,  granny,"  said  the  little  man  under  the 
umbrella,  sharply,  "  it 's  you  that 's  musty.  Put  the 
bird  down  !  " 

"What !  "_she  screamed,  loud  enough  to  wake  the 
dead,  and  swinging  the  turkey  high  up  in  the  air. 
"What ! "  yelled  this  piece  of  injured  innocence,  her 
eyes  snapping  like  tallow  candles  and  glaring  into 
those  of  the  huckster's  with  a  malignant  hate. 
"  What !  "  she  again  exclaimed,  "  insult  a  lone  woman 
with  five  children  and  a  sick  man  to  home  ! "  and 
quick  as  a  flash  of  light,  she  brought  that  turkey 
down  like  a  sledge  hammer  upon  the  little  blue 
awning  which  instantly  collapsed,  and  before  Chel 
sea  could  realize  the  situation  she  gave  him  a  fear 
ful  whack  over  the  head,  amid  the  cries  of  "  Go  in 
old  woman,  go  in-!"  from  faces  seen  under  wagon- 
covers  and  awnings. 

A  moment  later  this  representative  of  Copps  Hill 
was  seen  going  very  fast  up  Union  Street  with  the 
twelve-pound  turkey  in  one  hand  and  her  cabbage 
and  spring  chickens  in  the  other,  in  "  search  of  the 
perlice,"  who  of  course  were  "  in  out  of  the  wet," 
serenely  engaged  over  a  hot  sling  with  Billy  Watts 
at  the  Marshall  House. 

There  were  many  similar  scenes  witnessed  during 


THANKSGIVING    WEEK. 

that  cold,  blustering  storm,  and  many  personal  en 
counters  of  a  far  more  amusing  character  between 
huckster  and  marketman  ;  but  cold  and  disagreeable 
as  were  the  surroundings,  nothing  seemed  to  dis 
turb  the  steady  good  temper  and  the  general  flow  of 
wit  on  every  side,  and  it  is  said  that  many  heavy 
sales  were  effected  "  between  drinks  "  on  that  bleak 
November  day. 

At  the  opening  of  the  present  chapter  we  find 
our  friend  Graham  in  business  in  the  vicinity  of  the 
Quincy  Market,  and  devoting  the  spare  day  to  post 
ing  up  his  books.  The  storm  still  continued  to  rage 
with  great  fury,  and  while  he  was  bending  over  his 
desk  a  young  gentleman  entered  the  counting-room, 
and  said,  as  he  shook  the  snow  from  his  wraps,  — 

"  Good  morning,  Frank." 

"  Hullo,  Gus.  What  in  time  brought  you  down 
here  to-day  ? " 

"  Come  to  see  you,  old  fellow.  Why  don't  you 
have  a  fire." 

"  That's  quite  a  compliment.     Pray  sit  down." 

"  Don't  fuss  with  the  stove,  Frank,  for  I  'm  in  a 
fearful  hurry  to  catch  the  next  train  out." 

"  Well,  let  me  show  my  appreciation  of  your 
visit." 

"  You  can  best  do  that  by  accepting  the  terms 
which  has  made  this  visit  indispensable." 

"  Pray,  what  are  they  ?  I  can  almost  promise  you 
in  advance." 


252  A    WINTER  EVENING'S   TALE 

"Nothing  but  an  invitation  from  father  and  mother 
to  take  dinner  with  us  Thanksgiving  Day.  We  are 
going  to  have  a  quiet  little  time  by  ourselves,  and  a 
sleigh-ride  after  supper.  I  promised  to  bring  out 
your  answer  to-night.  Come,  don't  hesitate  —  but 
say  Yes  —  we  are  not  asking  you  to  attend  a 
funeral." 

"  Have  you  come  from  Bromfield  Street  through  ' 
this  pelting  storm  for  that  purpose  ? " 

"Yes,  I  have,  —  with  the  exception  of  a  message 
to  the  bank,  —  and  I  don't  see  how  you  can  very 
well  say  No." 

"  Nor  neither  can  I,  Gus." 

"  Then  you  will  come  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  should  be  unworthy  your  parent's  esteem 
to  refuse." 

"  Then  take  the  i  P.  M.  train,  and  I  will  meet  you 
with  our  team  upon  its  arrival.  It 's  all  settled, 
is  it?" 

"  Yes  ;  I  shall  surely  come  if  the  train  does." 

"Well,  then  I'll  be  off,"  said  his  friend  as  he 
wound  the  wraps  about  his  head  and  shoulders, 
and  then  added,  "  What  message  have  you  for  the 
girls  ? " 

"  Oh,  tell  them  not  to  kill  me  with  any  more  sur 
prises.  I  have  n't  fully  recovered  from  the  last." 

"Beats  the  Dutch,  don't  it,  Frank.  But  there! 
they  are  everlastingly  conjuring  up  some  necromancy 


THANKSGIVING    WEEK.  253 

or  other  to  bother  and  fret  us  fellows.  I  should  n't 
wonder  if  they  sprang  another  trap  upon  you  yet, 
that  will  be  worse  than  the  last." 

"  Don't  see  how  they  can,  Gus,  for  I  have  become 
familiar  with  their  schemes  and  tactics,  and  to  be 
forewarned  is  simply  to  be  forearmed." 

"  That  is  quite  true ;  still  they  are  such  adepts  in 
their  rdle  that  it  would  n't  surprise  me  at  all  if  they 
"  panned  "  you  out  a  wife  yet." 

"  That  would  indeed  be  a  surprise,"  said  Graham, 
laughing,  and  pressing  his  friend's  hand  as  he  said 
good-by ;  and  then  added,  "  But,  Gus,  it 's  hard  to 
'  catch  old  birds  with  chaff.'  " 

"  Yes,  I  know,  Graham,  and  yet  I  often  think  of 
the  many  stubborn  facts  which  occur  daily  to  dis 
prove  your  dogma  and  confirm  the  doctrine  of  pre 
destination,  which  affirms,  if  it  does  not  convince  us 
all,  how  impossible  it  is  to  avoid  the  inevitable." 

"  I  am  to  understand,  then,  that  my  spiritual  affin 
ity  is  now  floating  about  in  the  air  in  your  neighbor 
hood,  and  upon  the  certainty  of  this  visit  hangs  a 
story  and  a  cheap  wedding  ?  " 

"  I  cannot  discuss  the  subject,  Frank.  I  have  not 
the  time,  but  I  will  venture  to  say  this  much.  I  be 
lieve  for  every  Jack  there  's  a  Gill.  I  know  you  are 
a  man  of  warm  impulses  and  strong  social  habits, 
and  that  your  sympathetic  feelings  crave  a  compan 
ionable  and  faithful  friend  which  cannot  be  realized 
outside  of  a  married  life." 


254  A    WINTER  EVENING'S   TALE. 

"  Go  on,  Gus ;  this  is  beautiful,"  said  Graham, 
crunching  a  cracker. 

"I  know,"  continued  his  friend,  giggling,  "that 
you  are  yearning  for  just  such  a  companion.  I  feel 
that  there  is  now  existing  somewhere  —  I  cannot 
presume  to  say  where  —  but  somewhere  —  there  ex 
ists  a  woman  who  is  every  way  adapted  to  your 
wants  and  tastes  ;  that  she  is  looking  for  just  such  a 
man  to  satisfy  her  longings,  as  you  are  for  a  woman 
to  assuage  yours  ;  and  that  both  of  you  are  waiting 
for  the  golden  opportunity  which  shall  consummate 
both  your  desires.  It  may  not  be  this  year,  nor  the 
next,  that  this  meeting  shall  take  place  ;  but  mark 
me,  whenever  this  woman  and  you  come  together, 
whether  it  happens  in  Boston  or  New  York,  you 
will  know  it,  and  she  will  know  it,  and  nothing  short 
of  a  first-class  death  will  prevent  a  happy  union  — 
and  don't  forget  it." 

"  Should  your  predictions  ever  be  verified,"  said 
Graham,  as  his  friend  strode  out  into  the  storm,  "  I 
will  join  your  church,  and  bless  the  fates  which  re 
vealed  to  the  nineteenth  century  such  a  stupendous 
wonder." 

Thanksgiving  morning  opened  clear  but  cold,  and 
Graham,  seated  in  the  car,  followed  with  his  eyes 
the  hills,  meadows,  and  beach  as  the  train  ploughed 
through  the  snow-drifts  over  the  marshes  by  the 
sea. 


THANKSGIVING    WEEK.  2$$ 

The  little  peaceful  villages  nestling  against  the 
frozen  hills  and  the  deep  blue  sky,  with  their  unas 
suming  churches  standing  in  their  midst  like  watch 
ful  shepherds  guarding  their  flocks,  were  passed  in 
succession,  and  in  an  hour  the  train  dashed  into  the 
famous  old  city  of  witches. 

There  is  little  to  be  said  in  reference  to  what  oc 
curred  in  the  interval  between  Graham's  leaving  the 
Mohawk  valley  and  his  unexpected  appearance  as  a 
clerk  in  a  "  down  town  "  house  in  the  city  of  Boston. 
His  disability  rendered  a  change  of  profession  nec 
essary,  and  he  sought  and  acquired  in  that  city  a 
mercantile  education,  which  will  account  for  the 
position  he  filled  at  the  opening  of  this  chapter. 
With  a  private  family  at  the  West  End  of  the  city 
he  found  a  neat  and  peaceful  home,  where  he  was 
gradually,  but  surely,  wearing  out  the  sad  and  blis 
tering  memories  of  the  past.  Without  a  friend  or 
an  acquaintance,  he  had  gone  to  that  great  city  and 
mapped  out  the  hidden  future  before  him.  Conceal 
ing  from  the  world  the  diversities  of  his  past  pur 
suits,  confiding  to  no  one  the  disasters  which  had 
befallen  his  father's  house,  he  lived  the  quiet  and 
secluded  gentleman,  bearing  an  aching  heart  which 
refused  to  be  comforted. 

Jane  Rugby's  name  had  never  passed  his  lips, 
and  with  the  exception  of  the  casket  containing  the 
little  gifts,  which  lay  at  the  bottom  of  his  trunk,  no 


A    WINTER  EVENING'S    TALE. 

one  would  have  suspected  that  such  a  person  had 
ever  lived.  Once  in  a  while,  in  the  gloom  of  the 
hour  and  the  seclusion  of  his  chamber,  that  still 
cherished  remembrance  of  other  days  would  be 
brought  to  the  surface  and  its  contents  tenderly  ex 
amined.  He  would  composedly  retrace  his  steps 
through  fern  and  thicket  to  Rugby  Farm,  and  recall 
the  words  that  fell  from  her  lips,  as  she  fastened 
the  rosebud  to  the  lapel  of  his  coat.  The  tender 
hours  spent  together  upon  Rugby  Hill,  the  anxious 
scenes  with  the  Squire  at  the  farm,  and  the  ever- 
memorable  separation  upon  the  balcony  on  that 
chilly  November  night  long  years  ago,  —  the  recol 
lections  of  these  eventful  days,  and  the  sacred  mem 
ories  which  clustered  around  them,  would  revive  in 
all  their  vividness  those  happy  days,  the  happiest  of 
his  life,  and  infuse  into  his  heart  the  only  consola 
tion  acceptable,  that  their  separation  was  both  for 
cible  and  a  monstrous  wrong.  The  letter,  "  more 
expressive  than  wise,"  would  be  read  over  and  over 
again.  The  ring,  "the  emblem  of  my  plighted  love  " 
embroidered  on  a  black  velvet  pocket  which  held  it, 
and,  "  keep  it  as  a  talisman,  and  return  it,  when  your 
love  for  me  is  dead,"  finely  written  upon  a  card  and 
attached  with  a  silken  cord,  was  after  a  while  laid 
by  its  side,  and  "  last  but  not  least,  the  picture  of 
your  affianced  wife,"  was  gazed  upon  fondly  and  with 
a  never-dying  zeal. 


THANKSGIVING    WEEK. 

Reader,  if  Jane  Rugby  was  a  married  woman  with 
a  family  growing  up  around  her,  what  right  had 
Graham  with  these  souvenirs  ?  Why  had  he  not 
buried  them  under  the  head-stone  of  his  mother's 
grave  ?  Why  had  he  not  destroyed  them,  since  they 
could  never  be  of  service  to  him,  and  the  spirit  which 
actuated  the  giver  at  the  time  was  as  dead  as  she 
had  proven  base  and  heartless,  and  their  posses 
sion  only  a  quickening  'torment  and  an  everlasting 
stinging  pain.  As  was  his  purpose  so  it  should 
have  ended,  —  he  should  have  banished  her  name 
and  image  from  his  heart  and  thought,  and  cast 
these  tokens,  the  reminders  of  her  weakness  and 
perfidy,  into  the  depths  of  the  sea.  But  he  had  not 
done  so  —  as  you  see  —  and  why  —  simply  because 
his  love  for  Jane  Rugby  was  not  yet  dead.  If  she 
had  proven  false  to  him  and  repudiated  the  dearest 
ties  of  the  human  heart,  not  so  with  him — his  love 
had  been  built  upon  a  rock  too  firm  to  be  so  easily 
washed  away.  The  future  was  long  and  compara 
tively  narrow,  there  was  a  possibility  of  their  yet 
meeting  again  —  should  such  an  event  ever  happen 
it  would  be  worth  the  sacrifice  of  one-liio.  to  prove 
the  strength  of  man's  character  and  show  how  true 
he  might  have  been  to  her. 
17 


CHAPTER   XIX. 

THANKSGIVING   DINNER    IN   THE   CITY   OF   WITCHES. 

"  Come !  if  you  come  not,  1  can  wait, 
My  faith,  like  life,  is  love  ; 
My  will  —  not  little :  my  hope  much : 
The  patient  are  the  strong 

M  Yet  come,  ah  come !    The  years  run  fast, 
And  hearts  grow  swiftly  cold  — 
Hearts  too  ;  but  while  blood  beats  in  mine 
It  holds  you,  and  will  hold. 

"  And  so  before  you  it  lies  bare  — 
Take  it  or  let  it  lie, 
It  was  an  honest  heart ;  and  yours 
To  all  eternity." 

ANON. 

FRANK  GRAHAM  was  the  guest  of  Joshua  Living 
stone,  a  retired  sea-captain  who  lived  in  the  central 
part  of  the  city  of  Salem.  He  had  formed  his  ac 
quaintance  during  the  voyage  from  Nicaragua  to 
New  York.  This  acquaintance  had  ripened  into  a 
friendship  which  had  continued  ever  since.  His 
oldest  son,  Augustus,  was  about  the  same  age  as 
Graham,  between  whom  there  had  sprung  up  an 
attachment  which  had  never  been  disturbed.  His 
daughters,  Fanny  and  Mabel,  were  both  married 
and  lived  at  home  with  their  parents.  These  made 
a  pleasant  family  group,  and  contributed  much  to 


THANKSGIVING  IN  THE   CITY  OF  WITCHES.    259 

the  enjoyments  of  this  charming  New  England 
home. 

Upon  Graham's  arrival  at  the  home  of  the  Liv 
ingstones  he  was  met  by,  and  of  course  became  the 
personal  guest  of,  his  young  friend.  Both  gentle 
men  were  engaged  in  arranging  their  toilets  for 
dinner,  and  listening  alternately  to  the  noise  and 
clatter  which  the  girls  were  making  as  they  scam 
pered  from  one  room  to  another.  The  air  was 
strongly  impregnated  with  the  savory  odors,  in 
which  the  "Rhode  Island  fancy"  contributed  seem 
ingly  the  largest  share.  The  company  were  still 
arriving,  the  gentlemen  being  in  charge  of  the  Cap 
tain,  while  the  ladies  were  being  entertained  by  the 
girls  in  the  parlor. 

"  I  tell  you  what  it  is,  Frank,"  said  his  friend,  as 
he  twisted  the  ends  of  his  moustache  between  his 
waxen  fingers,  "  those  witches  down-stairs  are  plan 
ning  a  campaign  against  some  of  us  fellows,  and 
you  had  better  open  the  door  and  listen." 

"Well,  I  don't  see  what  good  that  will  do,  unless 
to  show  them  they  are  suspected  and  stimulate  them 
to  double  their  craftiness. 

"  Perhaps  after  dinner  we  had  better  go  over  to 
the  club  for  a  while,"  suggested  Gus. 

"  What !  retreat  in  the  face  of  your  enemies ! 
That 's  cowardly.  Better  capitulate  or  even  sur 
render  unconditionally.  Who  is  the  lady  that 's 


26O  A    WINTER  EVENING'S   TALE. 

singing  in  the  parlor  ? "  he  added,  stopping  suddenly 
in  the  midst  of  his  sentence". 

"  Oh,  that 's  a  school-marm  from  Ipswich.  She 
taught  school  here  some  years  since  and  sister  Fan 
was  one  of  her  pupils." 

"  She  has  a  sweet  pretty  voice,"  remarked  Gra 
ham,  "  but  a  little  too  sad  to  be  popular.  It  seems 
as  though  I  had  heard  that  voice  before  —  some 
where  in  my  rambles.  What  is  her  name  ? " 

When  he  asked  this  question  he  stood  looking 
out  of  the  chamber  window,  and  his  face  wore  an 
unusually  sad  and  dejected  expression. 

"  Miss  —  Miss  —  Miss  —  somebody,"  said  his 
friend,  deeply  interested  in  the  effects  of  the  comb 
and  brush  upon  his  nicely  cut  side  whiskers.  "  I 
thought,"  he  continued,  "  I  could  spit  her  name  right 
out  —  but  let  me  see  —  Ah,  I  have  it  —  Bugbee 
—  yes,  Bugbee  —  that 's  it." 

Miss  Bugbee  continued  to  sing.  Her  full  rich 
voice  seemed  to  rise  up  out  of  the  floor  and  fill  the 
room  with  its  strange  and  affecting  melody.  As  the 
following  words  burst  from  her  lips,  distinct  and 
clear,  and  fell  upon  the  ears  of  the  young  men,  they 
stopped  and  listened,  — 

"  Oh,  no  ;  I  never  mention  him, 
His  name  is  never  heard ; 
My  lips  are  now  forbid  to  speak 
That  once  familiar  word. 
From  sport  to  sport  they  hurried  me, 


THANKSGIVING  IN  THE  CITY  OF  WITCHES.     26 1 

To  banish  my  deep  regret, 
But  if  he  loves,  as  I  have  loved, 
He  never  can  forget." 

"  Why,  Graham,  what  ails  you  ?  Don't  you  feel 
well  ? "  questioned  his  friend,  feelingly. 

"  Never  felt  better  in  my  life,  Gus,  never.  Why 
—  what  made  you  ask  such  a  question  ? " 

"  Well,  nothing  beyond  a  slight  pallor  I  fancied  I 
saw  in  your  face." 

"  You  must  n't  forget  I  am  in  the  city  of  witches, 
of  whose  subtile  influences  I  am  cautioned  to  be 
ware.  " 

Rap  —  rap  —  rap. 

"  Come  in,"  said  Gus,  "  Come  in." 

"  The  dinner,  gentlemen,  is  on  the  table,  and  the 
company  are  waiting  for  you,"  said  the  servant, 
peeping  through  the  door. 

"We'll  be  right  down,"  said  Livingstone,  exam 
ining  himself  carefully  before  the  glass. 

"  Come,  Frank,  brace  up,"  said  his  friend,  as  he 
held  the  door  in  his  hand.  "  Let  us  go  down  and 
behold  some  of  your  much  dreaded  witches.  By 
the  right  flank,  forward  march." 

"  And  fall  a  prey  to  their  delusive  charms,"  added 
Graham,  laughing,  as  he  followed  his  friend  down 
the  stair-way. 

"  Nothing  of  that  nature  can  ever  harm  you,  old 
fellow  ;  for,  like  Macbeth,  you  have  a  charmed  life." 


262  A    WINTER  EVENING'S   TALE. 

"  And  yet  these  prophetic  deceptions  led  him  to 
his  death,"  replied  Graham,  as  they  entered  the 
hall. 

"  In  your  case  let  us  hope  the  scene  will  be  re 
versed,"  said  his  friend,  as  they  walked  into  the 
dining-room. 

The  dining-hall  for  the  occasion  had  been  en 
larged  and  to  meet  the  requirements  of  an  unusually 
large  number  of  guests  the  tables  were  extended 
into  the  sitting-room  by  removing  the  folding  doors. 
Dinner,  as  Dolly  had  said,  was  all  on  the  table  and 
the  guests  were  being  waited  upon  as  rapidly  as 
possible.  The  young  gentlemen  walked  quickly  to 
the  head  of  the  table  and  took  the  seats  assigned 
them.  They  stood  for  a  moment  in  full  view  of  the 
company,  while  young  Livingstone  introduced  his 
friend.  Then  both  bowed  politely,  and  dropped 
quietly  into  their  seats. 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Livingstone  were  in  the  very  best 
of  spirits.  The  waiters  were  kept  busy  in  passing 
the  various  side  dishes,  when  suddenly  a  goblet  fell 
with  a  crash  upon  the  table,  spattering  the  water  in 
every  direction,  instantly  arresting  the  clatter  of 
knives  and  forks  and  the  hum  of  voices.  A  faint 
scream  accompanied  the  clatter  of  broken  glass, 
and  although  it  was  partially  drowned  by  the  con 
fusion  caused  by  ladies  and  gentlemen  rising  to 
their  feet  quickly  and  closing  in  around  the  scene 


THANKSGIVING  IN  THE  CITY  OF  WITCHES.     263 

of  the  accident,  still  a  low,  piercing  wail  was  dis 
tinctly  heard  by  Augustus  Livingstone  and  his 
friend.  "A  lady  has  fainted,  one  of  the  guests," 
came  up  from  one  gentleman  to  another  in  a  whis 
per,  and  a  moment  later  she  was  taken  up  tenderly 
and  borne  away. 

"  Dear  me  !  "  said  Mrs.  Talbot,  in  a  profound  whis 
per  to  her  neighbor,  "  how  sudden !  why  it  gave  me 
such  a  shock  !  " 

"  How  is  the  lady  ?  "  inquired  Mrs.  Banister,  ad 
dressing  Mrs.  Livingstone,  who  a  few  minutes  later 
resumed  her  seat  at  the  table. 

"  Oh,  she  is  quite  comfortable  and  very  happy," 
said  the  lady  addressed,  with  a  pleasant  smile  and  a 
significant  wink. 

"  It  was  not  a  shock  of  paralysis  then,  as  I  feared," 
inquired  a  lady  from  the  opposite  side  of  the  table. 

"Oh,  no,"  said  the  lady  spoken  to;  "nothing  so 
serious  as  that,  I  hope.  The  doctor,"  she  added, 
"calls  it  nervous  prostration,  caused  from  sudden 
fright.  She  will  be  all  right  presently." 

"  Sudden  fright !  "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Talbot.  "  Why, 
how  dreadful.  Pray,  where  is  the  monster?"  said 
the  lady,  as  she  stared  inquiringly  into  the  face  of 
each  gentleman  with  assumed  gravity  and  alarm. 

"  It  is  you,  Graham,"  said  young  Livingstone,  as 
he  passed  the  celery  ;  "  I  '11  bet  my  bottom  dollar  it 
is  you." 


264  A    WINTER  EVENING'S   TALE. 

"  More  than  likely  the  poor  girl  has  seen  one  of 
your  infernal  hobgoblins,  which  infests  this  unfort 
unate  city." 

"  You  remember,  I  told  you  the  devil  would  be  to 
pay  here  to-night." 

"  Yes,  I  know  it,  and  I  am  gradually  yielding  to 
his  cursed  influences." 

"  What  was  the  name  your  mother  gave  the  lady, 
was  it  Bugbee  ?  " 

"Augustus,"  said  his  mother,  interrupting,  "I 
would  speak  to  you  —  if  you  have  finished  your 
dinner." 

"Yes,  mother,  I  will  follow  you."  And  Graham 
returned  to  his  friend's  room  alone. 

When  young  Livingstone  came  back  to  his  room 
he  walked  quietly  up  to  the  fire-place  and  said, 
while  his  face  beamed  all  over  with  pleasure  : 
"  Come,  Frank,  it 's  your  turn  now  ;  the  plot  is  thick 
ening,  and  you  're  in  for  it.  Mother  wants  to  see 
you  in  her  private  room." 

"  Wants  to  see  me  in  private  !  "  said  Graham,  in 
surprise.  "You  are  joking,  Gus." 

"  Not  a  bit  of  it.  Go  along  down ;  you  cannot 
fear  my  mother,  surely,"  said  Livingstone,  lighting 
a  cigar.  "  Go  ahead,"  he  continued.  "  She  is  wait 
ing  for  you." 

"  Trust  myself  with  your  mother  !  Well,  yes,  I 
think  I  can ;  but  if  this  private  interview  does  not 


THANKSGIVING  IN  THE  CITY  OF  WITCHES.     26$ 

prove  the  prelude  to  a  grand  comedy,  in  which,  as 
usual,  I  am  assigned  the  heaviest  part,  you  can  shoot 
me  with  an  onion." 

"  Remember,  you  are  invulnerable,"  said  his  friend, 
with  a  deep  chuckle. 

"  Invulnerable,  indeed  !  ^  exclaimed  Graham,  ner 
vously,  as  he  strode  towards  the  door.  "Why, 
nothing  can  withstand  the  plots  which  these  girls 
can  get  up.  Already  they  have  commenced  to  in 
flate  one  of  their  diabolical  balloons,  and  in  its  as 
cension,  mark  me,  you  will  miss  your  friend,  and 
when  you  find  him,  if  you  ever  do,  it  will  be  a-strad- 
dle  of  Bunker  Hill  Monument,  or —  some  other  emi 
nence  equally  fatal." 

"  More  likely  find  you  in  the  arms  of  some  beau 
tiful  witch,  floating  about  in  the  moonbeams  intox 
icated  with  hymeneal  joys,"  whispered  his  friend,  as 
the  former  disappeared  in  the  hall. 

"Mrs.  Livingstone,  did  you  wish  to  see  me?" 
asked  Graham,  as  that  lady  responded  to  his  sum 
mons. 

"  Yes,  I  did,  Frank  ;  please  walk  in.  I  have  a 
patient  here,"  she  began. 

"  Indeed,"  exclaimed  Graham,  suspiciously  scan 
ning  the  form  upon  the  sofa. 

"Yes,"  she  resumed,  "and  she  has  expressed  a 
wish  to  see  you." 

"  I  feel  deeply  flattered,  Mrs.  Livingstone,  indeed 
I  do,"  said  Graham,  bowing  with  profound  civility. 


266  A    WINTER  EVENING'S   TALE. 

"  She  has,"  again  resumed  the  lady,  enjoying  the 
secret,  and  realizing  how  supremely  ignorant  he  was 
of  the  impending  revelation,  —  "she  has  made  many 
inquiries  concerning  you,  and  regards  these  simul 
taneous  visits  of  yours  in  the  light  of  a  special  act 
of  Divine  Providence.  She  now  feels  that  this  in 
terview  is  absolutely  essential  to  her  recovery,  and 
perhaps  necessary  to  your  future  happiness." 

"  This  is  delightful,"  added  Graham,  with  a  laugh. 

"Be  that  as  it  may,  Graham,  she  has  conceived 
the  idea  that  this  meeting  is  inevitable,  and  hope 
fully  awaits  the  remedies  which  can  alone  save  her 
from  a  long  and  painful  illness,  and  possibly  a  pre 
mature  grave." 

"  I  like  these  little  side  shows  !  "  exclaimed  Gra 
ham,  pacing  the  room  ;  "  they  are  quite  refreshing, 
Mrs.  Livingstone.  I  am  glad  you  are  taking  a  part 
in  the  comedy  arranged  for  to-night.  The  girls  must 
appreciate  your  peculiar  merits  if  I  don't.  It  is  a 
little  too  late,  however,  for  a  midsummer's  night's 
dream,  and  I  am  not  equal  to  the  part  of  Romeo. 
Assign  me,  please,  as  the  fatherly  Friar,  for  then  I 
can  kiss  the  maiden  with  impunity." 

"  Come,  dear,"  said  Mrs.  Livingstone  imprinting 
a  kiss  upon  her  patient's  lips,  "  Come,  be  not  afraid  ; 
for  "all's  well  that  ends  well,"  and  bowing,  with  a 
mischievous  smile  upon  her  face  and  a  merry  twin 
kle  in  her  eyes,  she  withdrew,  leaving  the  invalid 
and  her  physician  alone. 


THANKSGIVING  IN  THE  CITY  OF  WITCHES.     267 

As  the  patient  timidly  arose  to  her  feet  and  re 
moved  the  veil  which  had  partially  concealed  her 
face  Graham  stepped  back  and  uttered  a  deep  cry  of 
startled  wonder,  and  a  name  which  had  once  been  to 
him  so  tender  and  familiar,  died  upon  his  lips,  in  one 
long  stifled  whisper.  For  some  moments  he  neither 
moved  nor  spoke,  but  gazed  fixedly  upon  the  face 
before  him.  A  change  soon  became  perceptible  ; 
the  previous  ten  years  of  his  life  seemed  to  pass  rap 
idly  in  review ;  the  slender  girl'  of  seventeen  stood 
before  him  now  developed  into  a  full-grown  woman ; 
the  delicate  tints  and  girlish  bloom  were  gone,  but 
the  same  lines  of  character  and  singular  beauty  still 
remained,  only  more  fully  defined.  And  she,  poor 
girl,  trembling  before  his  searching  look,  with  hands 
clasped  before  her,  and  eyes  dimmed  with  tears,  she 
stood  the  very  picture  of  hope,  smiling  upon  a  new 
born  day. 

"  Jane  Rugby  !  "  he  exclaimed,  impassionately. 
"  In  God's  name  is  this  you  ? " 

"  Yes,  I  am  Jane  Rugby  of  Rugby  Farm." 
"  And  do  you  still  bear  that  name  ?  " 
"  Yes  ;  I  have  never  borne  any  other  !  " 
"  Then  you  are  not  married,  Jane  ?  " 
"  I  am  betrothed  —  but  not  married." 
"  Betrothed,  did  you  say  ?     Then  you  have  sought 
this  interview  simply  to  tear  afresh  the  wound,  and 
teach  me  to  hate  your  memory  ? " 


268  A    WINTER  EVENING'S   TALE. 

"  No,  Graham  ;  indeed  no.  God  forbid.  You  mis 
understood  me.  Don't  leave  me  ;  pray  don't  go  ! " 

"  But  you  say  you  are  betrothed,  and  yet  you 
once  pledged  yourself  most  solemnly  to  me." 

"  Yes,  Graham  ;  I  remember  well  those  happy 
days,  but  they  extend  back  to  long  years  ago." 

"  Nevertheless,  those  vows,  so  sacredly  plighted, 
were  registered  in  heaven." 

"And  so  were  yours,  alongside  of  them." 

"  True,  Jane  ;  and  there  they  still  remain.  They 
have  never  yet  been  canceled." 

"  Neither  have  mine,  my  poor  dear  boy.  Oh,  bless 
you  for  that  avowal." 

"  Then  it  is  I,  Jane,  to  whom  you  are  betrothed ; 
and  do  you  still  love  me  as  fondly  as  ever  ? " 

"Yes,  Frank  ;  I  am  to  you  just  what  I  was  ten 
long  years  ago  —  your  'faithful  queen.'  " 

"  And  you  have  been  true  to  me  all  these  years  ? " 

"  Yes,  my  poor  boy.     I  could  not  have  done  less." 

"  Kneel,  darling ;  kneel  with  me,  and  before  God, 
and  in  his  sight,  let  us  pour  out  the  fullness  of  our 
hearts  before  Him,  —  tell  how  boundless  are  our 
joys,  how  immeasurable  are  our  thanks ;  beseech 
Him  to  bless  this  reunion  and  sanctify  our  immedi 
ate  marriage." 

"  Seal  it,  Frank  dear,  seal  it  with  eternity's  kiss." 

"  From  this  hour,  Jane,  no  more  separations,  but, 
one  and  indivisible,  we  will  tread  life's  thorny  path 


THANKSGIVING  IN  THE  CITY  OF  WITCHES.    269 

together,  forgiving  and  forgetting  all  things  but  the 
memories  which  cluster  about  this  most  fortunate 
and  happy  meeting." 

"  Could  there  be  anything  more  gratifying,  more 
beautiful,  or  more  deserving,  my  boy  ? " 

"  No,  darling.  It  is  the  happiest  hour  of  my  life. 
And  are  you  compensated  for  having  waited  these 
long  weary  years  ?  " 

"  Yes,  Frank  ;  I  am  more  than  repaid.  I  am  in 
deed  happy.  To  know  that  you  are  with  me  —  to 
see  you  with  my  own  eyes  —  to  feel  that  I  hold  you 
in  my  embrace  —  and  share  the  felicity  of  this  meet 
ing,  is  a  joy  too  extravagant,  almost,  to  be  real.  O 
day  of  thanksgiving  and  praise.  O  day  of  rest  and 
quietude." 

Rap  —  rap  —  rap. 

"Come  in,"  said  Graham,  "come  in."  And  in 
stantly  the  family  and  guests  gathered  around  the 
happy  couple  and  extended  to  them  their  heartiest 
congratulations.  Young  Livingstone  seemed  wild 
over  this  "  stupendous  wonder,"  and  declared  it  an 
infallible  proof  of  his  theory  of  preordination.  It 
was  a  conspicuous  example  where  fact  had  proven 
stranger  than  fiction.  Nothing,  he  asserted,  could 
excel  the  charm  of  the  play  or  equal  the  adaptability 
of  its  characters.  It  was  a  comedy,  cleverly  got  up, 
beautifully  performed,  and  the  principals  deserved 
the  highest  encomiums  for  the  conception  of  their 


2/0  A    WINTER  EVENING'S   TALE. 

parts  and  the  artistic  grace  which  marked  their  de 
portment  throughout  the  last  and  most  trying  scene. 
He  declared  that  Graham  should  join  his  church  as 
he  had  promised  to  do,  and  then  make  a  speech. 
The  peculiar  scene  witnessed  at  the  dinner-table  by 
every  one  present,  together  with  the  singular,  if  not 
dramatic,  conclusion,  seemed  to  him  to  require  a 
little  explanation  which  his  friend  he  knew  would  be 
only  too  glad  to  make.  When  the  balloon  shall 
have  been  inflated,  and  the  happy  couple  have  taken 
their  seats  in  the  car  which  shall  bear  them  up  into 
the  realms  of  celestial  joys,  no  one  present  would 
look '  more  proudly  upon  its  ascension  or  wish  the 
aeronauts  a  more  lasting  happiness  than  he. 

Graham,  upon  rising  to  reply,  thanked  his  friends 
for  their  cordial  sympathy  and  good  wishes,  and  as 
sured  his  friend  of  his  conversion  to  his  faith.  He 
then  entertained  the  company  with  a  recital  of  their 
early  attachment  and  separation  ;  of  her  belief  in 
his  death  and  her  subsequent  acceptance  of  a  home 
with  an  uncle  in  Gloucester  ;  of  his  own  return  and 
the  story  as  told  to  him  by  the  miller,  and  his  be 
lief  in  her  marriage  and  departure  for  Calcutta ;  and 
finally  concluding  his  brief  review  with  the  follow 
ing  story :  — 

"While  we  were  working  on  Gold  Flats  in  the 
old  Corral,"  he  began,  "  an  old  sailor  straggled  into 
our  claim  and  asked  for  work.  He  said  he  had  no 


THANKSGIVING  IN  THE  CITY  OF  WITCHES.     271 

tools,  neither  money  with  which  to  purchase  them. 
We  invited  him  down  to  our  camp.  *  Next  day  we 
set  him  to  work  cutting  a  ditch  from  a  little  gully 
to  bring  the  water  nearer  our  camps.  That  noon, 
while  being  served  with  dinner,  he  uncovered  a  six 
teen  pound  lump  of  gold,  and  said  :  4  Messmates,  I 
found  this  prize  in  the  ditch  yonder,  and  I  suppose 
it  rightfully  belongs  to  me,  but  I  found  it  on  your 
camp  grounds,  and  I  did  n't  care  to  leave  without 
first  showing  you  the  prize,  and  getting  your  full 
consent  to  take  it  away.'  Now,  friends,  I  have  found 
a  prize  of  inestimable  value  to  me,  but  I  found  it, 
as  I  might  say,  upon  your  premises.  I  have  no 
doubt  but  that  it  is  mine,  yet  I  feel  like  the  old 
sailor,  and  don't  care  to  leave  without  first  showing 
you  the  prize,  and  asking  you,  not  only  for  the  right 
to  take  it  away,  but  that  you  give  me  a  written  cer 
tificate  which  shall  guaranty  me  a  legal  claim  to  it 
as  long  as  I  live.  Friends,  this  is  my  prize.  Let 
me  take  her  away  ;  for  wheresoever  I  goeth  thither 
will  she  also  go,  my  friends  shall  be  her  friends,  and 
my  home  her  home.  God  hath  brought  us  together, 
let  no  man  put  us  asunder.  Let  us  kill  the  fatted 
calf,  and  eat,  drink,  and  be  merry,  for  she  that  was 
lost  is  found,  and  he  that  was  dead  is  alive  again." 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 
BERKELEY 

Return  to  desk  from  which  borrowed. 
This  book  is  DUE  on  the  last  date  stamped  below. 


FEB     6 1975 


LD  21-100m-9,'48iB399sl6)476 


•  BERKLB 


THE  UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 


